


A Beast by Any Other Name

by captain_indigo



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Claymore
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Beauty and the Beast AU, Bisexual Character, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Multi, Other, Queer Character, Skippable Explicit Chapter, more tags to be added as this catastrophe develops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9192053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_indigo/pseuds/captain_indigo
Summary: Clare is sacrificed to a terrifying monster to save her village, except the terrifying monster, by all appearances, is just a really hot badass lady. Except for her Deep Dark Secret...what could it be??





	1. Why Does Gender Matter If She's Just Going To Eat Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr prompt, of course. Don't read the post if you don't want spoilers.  
> http://itsclydebitches.tumblr.com/post/119655584055/reverse-fairy-tales

It's a pretty common setup, as far as sacrifices go. The beast lets the town hunt and forage within the woods in peace, as long as they don't go too near her castle. In return, all she requires is one person every other winter, on the first day of the new year. She never specified that the person had to be a man, as far as Clare knew, but the village elders still insisted she dress herself as one.

Clare rolled her eyes. It was a remarkably flimsy plan. If the beast did discriminate based on the gender of her sacrifice, she would quickly realize that Clare was not a man, and presumably take disastrous revenge on the entire population. She silently rose from the smooth wooden bench where she had been instructed to wait, and crept to a nearby door.

     "We just can't afford to send any more young men!"

     "And what do we do if the beast rejects our sacrifice?" This elder was quite...elderly, but he had jumped up from his chair and was pacing the floor. Rubel, one of the more sensible elders, spoke up from where he sat in the corner of the room.

     "I find that unlikely. Beasts are usually very explicit in their requests. Considering this one even specified the day and season, I doubt she would fail to specify the gender of the sacrifice, if it was any concern to her." Her? Clare sighed, creeping carefully back to her seat. At least there was some chance. Although...a chance at what? None of those they sent were ever seen again, but the gap between them was strangely large. What was the beast doing to them for all that time? Clare felt a shudder run up her spine. What was the beast going to do to her?

* * *

Her mother Teresa had obviously been crying, but her mouth was set firmly beneath her reddened eyes. Clare had done her crying weeks ago, when she had first been chosen. Mother was always one to hold on to hope. Teresa's mouth twitched when she saw the expression on her daughter's face. Blind stubbornness was one of Clare's biggest failings, and one of her greatest strengths. Almost smiling, she gathered the young woman into her arms.

     "Well, dear heart, if anyone can survive to come home, I think it would be you," she murmured. "Just face the monster with that expression and surely she'll burn to ash." Clare's fingers dug into her back.

     "Mother, I need to know...you have to promise me you won't waste away. I've seen what losing a child this way does to people. You have to let me go. The only comfort I'm going to have is knowing you're here, and that you're safe." Teresa sighed.

     "Then I promise. Better?" Clare squinted at her suspiciously, but accepted her word.

     "Better." For a moment then, Teresa saw the fear flicker in her eyes, but in the next moment Clare had squared her shoulders, and turned to face the forest. Though the afternoon sun was bright that day, the shadows beneath the trees were dark and thick, and the young woman disappeared from view. Satisfied, the council dispersed back to their duties, leaving one of their number to keep watch, as was customary.

Teresa sat and watched until twilight.

Finally acknowledging the cold stiffness that was creeping into her bones, she rose to her feet. Her smile to the watchful council member was colder yet.

Rubel watched long after Teresa had gone, peering intently into the trees as though force of will alone could reveal their secrets. It was truly pitch black when he finally moved, humming tunelessly to himself as he turned back towards the lights of the village.


	2. In Which Clare Goes On A Lovely Stroll Through The Woods

Two years was too long. She would have to change that, Ophelia thought. Her green eyes glinted in the moonlight as she stared absently out the window. At first she had thought it would be enough. Two years was a long time, definitely long enough for a human to fall in love. She did actually want to give the poor men a chance.

     "If only they could manage to last that long before I ate them out of pure annoyance," she muttered. Soon it would be too late. She heard another one drop, the softest whisper of a petal against wood, and realized she was gripping the stone windowsill so hard it was beginning to crack. The flower was wilting. A strange, choked-off noise escaped her throat.

     "Lady?" their voice was soft, cautious. They had reason to be. "May I speak?"

     "The worst timing, as always," Ophelia hissed. There was a moment's pause.

     "If my Lady would like to get dressed, I believe you will soon have company." Ophelia blinked. Tonight? The morning of the second day was more usual. Interesting.

     "Clearly this one has some woodcraft if he's here already."

     "Yes Lady, I...believe _she_ does."

Silence.

     "Well Lumiere, I suppose I had best get ready then. Would you set another place for dinner? And please send Chip in to do my hair, he's the only one who can get it right."

     "Yes, Lady."

* * *

 Clare knew she would need to make it to the castle by nightfall. The trail that led up the cliff was treacherous and obviously little used, and would be difficult to navigate even in daylight. Not to mention the wildlife. She shivered again, and realized she should plan her route. Summoning the will to even enter the forest had put planning completely out of her mind. Luckily, she was still on paths that she knew well. Dropping to sit on a nearby stump, she reached into her small pack. The map crackled a bit at the edges, but eventually yielded, spreading out in Clare's lap. It showed a network of trails centered around the village, spilling out like a web. The web grew thin at the edges, until only a single path remained, leading to a series of switchbacks marked in red ink. Beyond that, there was nothing but empty parchment. Tracing the shortest route with her finger, Clare smiled. She could almost hear her mother's voice.

* * *

 "I swear to the gods Clare, if you don't stop climbing trees and attend to your lesson I will leave you here for the wolves." Clare rolled her eyes, and swung down by her knees from a branch. Teresa stared, unamused, as her daughter hung upside down and pulled ridiculous faces.

"If you could read a map half as well as you could cross your eyes, my dear, we could go home right now," her mother said flatly. Sighing as though she were going to her death, Clare dropped from the branch onto her hands, rolling easily to the side and into a seated position next to the spread of papers on the ground.

"That's better. Now, let me test you on those elevation markings again."

* * *

 Clare rubbed her eyes in frustration. The map and the well-worn hunting trails had served her well, but now there was only a single overgrown path for her to follow. To make matters worse, the sun was quickly sinking towards the horizon, and a chill was creeping through the air. Should she stop for the night, or press on? Peering ahead through the undergrowth, Clare absentmindedly picked a bug out of her fair hair. Was that the beginning of the switchback up ahead? It wasn't like she was going to sleep tonight anyway.

It was not the beginning of the switchback. The well-traveled trails were one thing, but the way to the castle was mapped with much less accuracy. The mileage scale was partially off, at the very least. Clare scowled at the map, as though blaming it for her troubles. She had heard only one far-off howl, which meant _they_ were probably hunting on the other side of the ridge. Probably. Clare picked up the pace.

She gave a sigh of relief as she felt the path under her feet sloping upwards and to the left. Finally! The moon had risen by this point, which lit her way somewhat. Unfortunately the chill in the air had started seeping into her bones. Her coat was warm, but insufficient against the coldest nights of winter. Still, Clare's spirits were beginning to rise. The switchback wasn't too hard on her, and she finally broke through the crown of the forest. The trees were thinner and shorter here, hardly blocking her view. In the cracks and between boulders, scrubby little plants and lichens peered up at her. For a moment it was utterly silent except for the whispering of the silver sea of branches below her.

She froze. Was that...breathing?

Clare turned slowly to look back the way she came. _Uh oh._

She whipped back around and broke into a sprint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lumiere is super fucking formal with Ophelia. Cogsworth will be too. Seriously, tell me you wouldn't be formal with someone who could rip you in half. They aren't this formal usually and will quickly approach their normal levels of sass once Clare shows up. Enjoy your cliffhanger because I was writing for ages and Clare would just not get out of the McFreakin woods.


	3. In Which: Clare Doesn't Die

The awakened beasts were catching up quickly, their digitigrade legs much faster than her two human ones. They had crept up on her silently as she climbed the steep slope, their slight sounds masked by the crunch of stone under her feet. Cursing and panting, Clare sprinted around the bend towards the next switchback, catching a glimpse of her pursuers as she turned. In the moonlight, she could see their wolfish forms all too clearly. Their eyes glowed with a sickly yellow light, and she could catch the glint of many rows of teeth. Patches of their fur had fallen out during the transformation, revealing barely intact skin and swollen, knotted muscles.

Clare's adrenaline spiked, and her wild sprint up the next slope was almost effortless. It could only take her so far however, and she could hear the beasts snapping close at her heels. Her calves were starting to cramp as she flung herself over the lip of the last switchback, but she knew the level ground would only work in favor of the faster creatures. Clare stumbled as she tried to force her legs to keep moving, and the yellow eyes in the dark began to close in around her.

* * *

Lumiere sighed and swung their legs back and forth under the chair.

     "Cogs, I thought you said she'd be here already? I'm bored. We're all bored. Can you check again? I don't want the Lady thinking I was making things up." Cogsworth rolled his eyes.

     "Alright Lu, get over here and stir this soup then. I'll see where she is." He wheeled away from the stove and out onto the balcony that led off the kitchen. It was a godsend when they were baking in the summer months, he thought absently. Setting one of the brakes on his chair, he rested an arm on the railing and stared out into the darkness. He squinted and turned one ear towards the woods below.

     "Lu. Come here."

     "I thought you said you wanted me over here stirring-"

     "Lumiere, _now!_ "

* * *

The towering iron gates finally emerged from the gloom, just as Clare realized she wasn't going to make it. Two more pairs of eyes lept out from either side, blocking her way forward. Clare spun around, exhausted, looking for any possibility of escape. The pack of awakened beasts stalked forward, their tongues lolling out of their grinning mouths. They knew they would eat well tonight.

Suddenly a burst of flame streaked down from somewhere past the castle gates, landing between the two lead wolves with a loud pop, and spraying both of them with tongues of flame. Yelping, they danced away from the small explosion, creating a brief gap in the circle. Clare dived, ignoring the smell of singed hair and cloth that followed in her wake, and yanked herself up onto the bars of the gate. The fire began to dissipate almost immediately, and those of the pack who were not on fire lept towards her, roaring furiously. With a whine of exertion, Clare pulled herself farther up, until she dropped over the top of the gate, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Growling impotently, the awakened wolves slipped away down the hill. Some of them limped on burnt paws, but Clare was paying no attention. She lay face-down on the dirt, trying to slow her breathing, until she heard soft footsteps approaching from ahead of her. Looking up, she saw a small round woman in flowery nightclothes walking up the path.

     "Well goodness me. You're in quite a state. I hope you're satisfied. Lumiere's going to sleep for two days straight after that one. Cogsworth is going to be most upset with you. Why on earth did you try to finish the trek after it was dark? Kids these days, no common sense." The woman stopped speaking only long enough to lift Clare from the ground and gently place her over one shoulder. Clare noticed vaguely that the woman did this with ease, as if she were lifting a pebble from the ground. Her face flopped into the back of the woman's nightgown. She smelled like the woods, warm and piney.

     "To be fair though, you might sleep for a day as well after running from the wolves up that godsforsaken hill. Don't worry, you just leave everything to old Mrs. Potts, I'll make sure you're looked after. And I suppose I'll tell the Lady you're in no condition to meet her tonight. You certainly can't go to dinner looking like this." She continued chattering all the way up the the castle, but Clare's relief was so great that she fell asleep on the way, her head nodding against Mrs. Potts' back.

* * *

Cogsworth rubbed his eyes tiredly as he finished tossing the covers around Lumiere.

     "Are you comfortable? Can I do anything else?" Lumiere just mumbled something into their pillow. After a moment, they rolled over, lifting the blanket and waving it weakly at Cogsworth. The man sighed.

     "Alright, I suppose Potts can take care of the newcomer. Help me in, would you?" This last comment was directed seemingly at the ceiling. Lumiere, without removing their face from the pillow, pulled all the blankets over to make a clear space on the bed. Some grinding noises drifted up from underneath them, and the floor shifted, lifting and slightly turning Cogsworth's chair. He lifted his legs carefully out of the footrests, and slid himself into the bed. Lumiere hummed, and wrapped both themself and the blankets around him. Cogsworth wiggled into a more comfortable position, and snorted affectionately.

     "Goodnight, Lu."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my world, all magic castles are wheelchair accessible. It didn't used to be, but Cogsworth was like dude you're a magic castle what do you mean you can't lower the stove a little bit. Also, anyone who figures out which magical creature everyone used to be gets a cookie. I'm not giving it away till the end though.


	4. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw for someone getting strangled (in a bad way), but you can still read the first two scenes if you want to avoid it.

The blanket wrapped around her was warm, and delightfully soft.

Clare pressed her face into the pillow, savoring the texture of the cotton. The bed cradled her gently, and she shifted, not willing to wake up just yet. She supposed Teresa had started the fire already, and she was content to doze as she listened to the logs snapping in the fireplace. Eventually, the sound of a distant door slamming roused her, and she reluctantly rolled into a sitting position. She rubbed her eyes, and looked again.

The stone walls were almost perfectly straight, and the floor was covered with a luxurious red rug. Morning light and a gentle breeze filtered in through a door to her left. The elaborate fireplace was set into the far wall, and covered with delicately carved scroll work. An empty bookshelf, a desk, and some kind of large cabinet filled the remaining empty space on those walls, and a single larger door sat in the center of the wall to her right. Clare's stomach dropped unpleasantly as she remembered where she was. That Mrs. Potts had seemed kind at least, but who knew what terrible creatures roamed this place? She was alone, and Teresa couldn't help her here. Clare buried her face in her knees. She could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Her nails dug into her calves, and she gritted her teeth. She couldn't cry. Who knows who would hear her? Maybe she was being watched to make sure she didn't try to escape. She couldn't show any sign of weakness, at least until she knew more about her new prison. Clare breathed in deeply, and out again, slowly, her body shuddering with the effort it took. There was a gentle tap at the door to her right, and she couldn't help but flinch.

     "Are you awake dearie?" Clare recognized that voice, and she managed to take another breath.

     "Yes." she managed to croak.

     "May I come in?" Mrs. Potts' voice was more gentle than the night before. Clare coughed, clearing her throat.

     "Yes, I'm awake." The door opened, and the woman pushed the door open with her hip, arms full of some kind of laundry. No flowery nightgown this time, but a purple tunic and some very practical breeches. "Morning!" she chirped. "I wasn't sure what you would like, or your size, so I found a variety of things. Or of course you're welcome to wear what you brought, I've left your pack by the desk. There's food in the kitchen, if you're hungry, although you had quite a time last night. If you need some rest yet, I'm sure everyone can wait to meet you later. Let's see. Oh! How rude of me. I'm Mrs. Potts, in case you don't recall. And you?" Clare blinked a few times, a bit unnerved by the entire interaction. This was not at all what she had expected.

     "I'm Clare," she began, hesitantly, "and I do remember you. You carried me in last night after. After what happened. So thank you."

     "Hmm. You should really thank Lumiere, once they wake up. I haven't seen them throw that much fire in ages. And don't be worried if Cogsworth is a little frosty at first, he just worries, you know?"

     "They...they throw fire? Like the flares made from bottles of oil? Why are they both passed out?" Mrs. Potts frowned at Clare for a moment.

     "Oooh, of course, I'm forgetting myself. It wasn't both of them. Lumiere is 'they'. Not 'she' or 'he', just 'they'. It still refers to one person."

     "Oh." Clare furrowed her brow, absorbing the new information. "So, Lumiere. They saved me?" Mrs. Potts nodded approvingly.

     "Well, yes. Cogsworth helped, although I supposed I should let everyone tell you about themselves as they're ready. No sense overwhelming you on the first day. I'm sure I've chattered at you enough, you're welcome at breakfast whenever you're ready!" Dropping the pile of clothes onto the foot of the bed, she was gone before Clare could even think of a response. Clare rubbed her eyes again. She was thirsty, and figured she looked about as gross as she felt. More importantly though, she was _starving_. She dug halfheartedly through the pile of clothes by her feet, but eventually she retrieved her pack and pulled out the first shirt and pants she came to. Even if the situation was strange, at least the clothes were familiar. She pulled up her hair into a hasty bun so it was out of the way. Her stomach grumbled loudly in the quiet room, and Clare rolled her eyes.

Cautiously pulling open the door, she looked out into the hallway. It was lit brightly by large windows, _glass_ windows, of all things. Clare snorted. Like the room, and clothes Mrs. Potts had brought her, this place was much to elegant for her tastes. Quite the gilded cage. Shrugging, she looked down the hall, wondering where on earth she was supposed to go.

     "If she wanted me to eat, I wish she'd given me directions," Clare grumbled. Before she could decide which way, a door slammed again in the distance, and a breeze wafted down the corridor from the right. It smelled delicious, like baking bread and something spicy that she couldn't identify. Taking another deep breath, she followed her nose down the hall.

* * *

 Lumiere was still sound asleep, and probably wouldn't be up for a while. Cogsworth gently moved Lu's arms from around his waist, careful not to jostle his partner too much. He looked down at their face tenderly, an expression that would've surprised most of the other residents of the castle. Well, as much as he wanted to, Cogworth decided he couldn't stay in bed all day.

     "Pssst," he whispered towards the floor beside the bed. The rumbling was softer this time, as the stones shifted the wheelchair closer. Cogsworth turned his back to the chair, now level with the bed, and scooted himself backwards until he was comfortable. As the floor tilted back again, he carefully moved his legs into the footrests, bracing his elbows on the armrests on either side. Cogsworth glanced at the mirror and winced. His hair was a mess. He took out the silky black braid, and grabbed a brush. It was so long these days he normally had Chip do it, but that was more for fun than out of necessity. He grinned up at the ceiling as he wheeled out of the room, the door opening silently to let him pass. "Remember the first time we did this? I seem to recall you tipping me onto the floor more often than the bed. Good thing we had Lu and Mrs. Potts as spotters." The stones under his wheels grumbled goodnaturedly as he made his way towards the kitchen.

* * *

 Ophelia gripped the sides of the glass dome, tears streaming down her face. The last petal dimmed, slowly, slowly, finally dropping to rest on the table below. The bare stem hovered there for a moment, and she almost dared to hope that nothing would happen. A pair of silver eyes loomed out of the darkness, and Ophelia jumped back in horror, tripping over her own feet.

     "No, no! Please! I learned my lesson, I won't- I won't-" An icy hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing until her words were choked off entirely. Ophelia kicked frantically, digging her nails into the wrist emerging from the shadows. Broken choking noises escaped from her mouth as her breath ran out, her chest and stomach shuddering as they tried to pull in more air.

     "I'm only toying with you as you toyed with them, Ophelia. Or don't you remember?" More faces lept out of the shadows in the corners of her room, full faces this time, and all of them dreadfully familiar. There were many, too many, and they crowded around Ophelia, pressing in until she couldn't even see that pair of silver eyes. "Consider this your final warning, monster!" Ophelia only realized she had moved when her feet hit the stone floor of her bedchamber, her own scream still echoing in her ears. Her hands jumped to her throat, and her eyes to the glass dome by the window, but her throat was unharmed and a few black petals still clung to their stem. Better than nothing, but still far too few for comfort. All because of that witch! This wasn't her fault! It wasn't fair! Ophelia grabbed a glass from her nightstand and hurled it across the room. It exploded with a satisfying crash, and was quickly followed by several more. The next thing within reach was a tarnished hand mirror, and she whipped it at the floor with a hiss of rage. It bounced with a clang, chipping the stone where it had landed. Ophelia's eyes burned, and she stood panting in the middle of the room, surrounded by a halo of broken glass. She glared at the wall where the eyes had appeared, her own glowing green as poison in the morning light that crept in through her curtains.

     "Oh silver-eyed witch...I'll break this curse. And when I do, I'll make you wish you'd never been born!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had clamps on my teeth for like an hour, I hate everything, I needed to write something angsty. RIP my face.


	5. Food Fights and Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for Claymore-typical body horror in the second scene. Added mouse-over translations and footnote translations for italicized sign language.

Clare's soft leather slippers made little noise on the stone floor. Approaching what she hoped was the kitchen, she heard voices inside. She reached towards the door, but then paused as she heard her name.

     "How long do you think she'll last? A week? A month?"

     "Well goodness. Aren't you a ray of sunshine this morning? Firstly, her name is Clare, and secondly, you know I don't like betting on people's lives."

     "Yeah. I know. Sorry." There was a brief silence. "I almost hope she goes quick. I'm just so tired of this." Then, more softly, "I'm glad this one's the last." There was an abrupt clatter, as though something metal had fallen.

     "Cogsworth! You don't know that. We have- we still have time, and- " Mrs. Potts broke off abruptly. The silence went on this time, only broken by the soft scraping of wood on metal. Clare decided to stop hovering and pushed open the door. "Ah, there you are! I wondered if you were coming." Mrs. Potts immediately returned to her chipper self. "Here, I kept some rolls warm for you. There's butter and juice on the table there."

     "Thank you ma'am." Clare turned to butter her rolls, and locked eyes with the man sitting at the table. He had one leg crossed over the other, and was slouched in his chair. He was also eating one of the rolls, but continued staring at her, unblinking. With some effort, Clare managed to avoid a shiver as she sat down at the table. His eyes and hair were supernaturally dark, the daylight seeming to skirt away from them nervously. His olive skin had a deathly, greyish cast to it. He was slender, and somehow beautiful, but even from across the table she could feel the deadly threat humming underneath his skin. She heard him stifle a snort.

     "So you're Clare?"

     "And you're Cogsworth." Clare managed to meet his eyes again. "I heard I have you to thank for saving my life. You and Lumiere, that is." Cogsworth's lips twitched.

     "So formal. Maybe you'll get along with the Lady after all. Well, you can thank Lumiere after they wake up. And don't call me Cogsworth, by the Goddess. Cogs is fine. Only granny over there calls me Cogsworth," and he nodded towards Mrs. Potts who was setting the soup on one of the stone counters to cool.

     "Hmph. If you're going to call anyone granny, do it to Chip. You know he's the oldest out of all of us." Cogsworth laughed at that.

     "You got the matronly human form, and he looks like a twelve-year-old now. You're just going to have to live with it, granny." Clare listened silently to this exchange as she ate, frowning as she tried to piece together what they meant. There was a so much she didn't know. Cogsworth looked over at her and sighed thoughtfully. "Don't worry. I'm sure the Lady will explain some of it when you meet her." He glanced over at Mrs. Potts again. "Lunch maybe?"

     "I'm not sure dear, do you know if anyone's talked to her this morning?" Right on que, one of the shutters banged against the wall, and a small child hopped through the window. Clare blinked. Weren't they on the second floor? The kid lept gracefully up onto the table and grabbed a roll, examining Clare with his wide bright eyes. At least, Clare assumed he was. His eyes were completely white, with no iris or pupil to show where he was looking. As if he could read her mind, he flashed a smile full of sharp teeth, and waved his unoccupied hand slowly in greeting.

     "Have you seen the Lady this morning, Chip? We were wondering when to throw Clare to the wolves. I mean, send Clare to meet her." Clare was pretty sure Cogs was joking. Mostly.

     Chip sighed around his mouthful of bread, and moved his hand in a quick series of motions, _to his temple, outwards, then to his face, and outwards again._1

     "Nightmares again, hmm?" Cogs rubbed his eyes. "That's the second time this week already. It's getting worse." Chip nodded and continued eating his roll. "Maybe tonight then. Just explore for now Clare. The castle'll watch out for you, you can't get in too much trouble. Just stay out of the basement unless you want to die I guess." Cogsworth rolled his shoulders, trying to relax them. He needed a distraction. Casually picking up one of the rolls out of the basket, he whipped it straight at Chip's face. Clare suppressed a laugh as Chip caught it without looking, utterly unconcerned. Cogs grabbed another roll, throwing an arm across his face as Chip sent the first roll flying back at him. Clare's fingers tightened around the other roll on her plate, and she caught Cogs' eye. He raised an eyebrow at her and threw his second roll in Chip's direction. Chip caught this one easily as well, but as he turned to return fire, Clare flicked her roll across the table, hitting him lightly in the chest. He blinked his giant white eyes in surprise, and then his head fell backwards, a volley of high-pitched clicking noises cascading out of his throat. Clare started chuckling along with him. "Hah!" shouted Cogs, "Not so easy now that you only have two arms!"

     Chip scowled good-naturedly, _leaving his pointer finger raised, and tapping the rest of his fingers against the tip of his nose._2 He grabbed two more rolls, shoved them whole into his mouth, and scampered back out the window.

     "No swearing in front of the guest!" Cogs yelled cheerfully after him. Clare met his eyes with a grin, and they both started cracking up again.

     "Now Cogsworth, let the poor girl eat her breakfast," said Mrs. Potts, clearly trying not to laugh herself. Clare looked up and almost choked. Mrs. Potts was still standing at the counter kneading dough, but her head and neck had turned almost 180 degrees around so she could glare at Cogsworth. He rolled his eyes and wheeled away, still snickering, with some rolls and juice on his lap, muttering something about checking on his partner. Clearly there was more to everyone here than met the eye, Clare thought. Still, she smiled as she finally managed to finish her roll. Even if they were monsters, at least they had a sense of humor.

* * *

     "How can you be so calm Rubel? We're finally making progress! Actually, never mind. I don't think I've even seen you blink in a few years, much less express an actual emotion beyond sarcasm. Do you know what you need? You need some passion in your life, my good man. Don't you ever wonder what it's like outside that calculating brain of yours?"

     "My dear Dae, I have quite enough passion in my life just from being in the same room with you. In fact, if I weren't here to balance you out, you would surely have blown yourself up by now," Rubel replied mildly. Dae huffed in annoyance and returned to the figure before him. The man was naked, hanging by his wrists from heavy iron cuffs chained to the ceiling, and had similar chains securing his ankles. He was conscious finally, but clearly still dazed from the blow to his head.

     "Now we shall see," muttered Dae, measuring a viscous, yellow liquid into the chained man's mouth. Rubel took a small step backwards. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the man screamed. Dae jumped backwards, giggling hysterically and rubbing his hands together. He grabbed a piece of paper off the desk and his quill hovered, ready to take notes. Rubel's eyes narrowed. The chained man writhed in his bonds, bending backwards as much as the chains would permit, hands ripping at his hair.

     "NO!" he screamed, his voice echoing harshly against the cave walls. "No, no! Get it out, get it out of meeee!" His entire body rippled, muscles expanding and contracting in ways they definitely should not, his skin stretching across his bones and flesh till it looked like rawhide stretched over a drum. Claws burst out of his fingers and toes, bone-white with a thin wash of fresh blood dripping from their tips. His shoulders hunched forwards as he lowered his head, and his scream dropped into an inhuman roar. He bared his jagged teeth at the two elders before him, his yellow eyes boring into them as if he'd like nothing more than to leap at their throats. Yanking at his chains, he howled his rage, ropes of spit flying from his mouth as he watched the two men depart with their notes, locking a thick iron door behind them.

     "Well Rubel, we shall have quite the report to make. I knew after we got it to work on animals, it was only a matter of time until I got it to work on humans. After all, aren't we all beasts in the end? I'm only awakening what's already there." Dae glanced at the other man, waiting for a response, but Rubel just shrugged and kept walking. "Wet blanket," Dae snorted, and he began flipping through a thick stack of formulae as they left the cave. Outwardly, Rubel was as expressionless as ever. He concentrated, keeping his breath even, his shoulders relaxed, and his hands in their usual place in his pockets. And if anyone noticed the twitch at the corner of his eye, well. It had been a long day. If he simply said that he was tired, no one would think of it twice.

 

* * *

 

1\. [Bad dreams.]↩

2\. [Dick!]↩

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chip's sign language is based on the sign I use with two of my friends, just cause it's what I know the best. We use a combination of ASL, SEE (signing exact english), and some home signs, which are non-standard signs that we use among ourselves. When Chip is signing, I'm going to try and do a new paragraph as appropriate, or otherwise make it clear when he's talking. Let me know if anything is confusing!


	6. Meetings and Machinations

Even the delicious breakfast and the witty banter hadn't been enough to erase the cold pit that had taken up residence in Clare's stomach. It had been nice to forget about it briefly, but now she wandered the hallways by herself, with nothing to distract her. She _still_ hadn't met the Lady of the castle, and she still had no idea what horrible things lay in store. Although, the other residents of the castle hadn't seemed so bad. A little odd, but definitely not _dangerous_. Unless it was all a trick, meant to get her to drop her guard. Clare sighed, rubbing her eyes. First thing's first. If there was any hope of escape, she needed to know the layout of the castle and the grounds. Setting herself a task would also help keep the gnawing anxiety at bay.

She walked down the hall from the kitchen, passing a few small rooms on either side. Two of the doors were open, and they looked like personal rooms, probably for the other inhabitants of the castle. Turning left down the hall, she paused for a moment to gaze out the large windows. The land sloped up from the base of the stone walls, reaching another outer wall, and then beyond, where the windswept trees began giving way to short scrub brush and tall grasses. It was a curious transition, but she couldn't see any further past the rise. Continuing down the hallway, past her own room, she found a set of stairs that spiraled up through some sort of tower. Heading down towards the first floor, her mind started to drift again as she walked past several other sets of bedrooms.

How was her mother? Teresa had promised to be strong, but Clare knew only too well how much they needed each other. Clare had only been a child when her parents were killed by awakened creatures on a hunting expedition, and since that time she had drifted between houses in the village, taking food and shelter where she could find them. Then Teresa had stumbled in, dried blood covering her neck and her lips, broken arm strapped clumsily to her body. The child with no parents and the woman with no memories had naturally fallen together, slowly building a home of their own. The other villagers had gradually grown to tolerate their presence, but Clare worried that Teresa alone would be a more of a target.

Finding a smaller door beside the large castle gate, Clare finally breathed fresh air. The hallways on the first floor had been windowless, making her blink owl-like in the sunlight. The stone walls she had seen before continued, wrapping around the castle until they met the iron gate she had fallen over the night before. She shivered, the fire and the glowing yellow eyes swirling in her mind, as vivid as if they still surrounded her.

     "In any case," she muttered to herself, "The village would definitely be destroyed if I escaped now." She didn't care about the majority of them, but if Teresa were hurt... She would just have to think of something else. Maybe she could contact her mother, warn her to escape the village before the beast attacked? The path under her feet was dirt, packed hard by years of footsteps. The flowers scrambled over the ground around her, trees scattered with no discernible pattern throughout. The garden was oddly bright and varied, especially for the time of year, but Clare was too occupied with her worries to notice.

The thing that finally caught her attention was the sand pit. It was huge, wider and longer than the castle gate, and populated with smooth, blackened boulders. The air around them shimmered with heat, and Clare was forced to a halt a few meters away from the edge. In the middle of the pit, completely oblivious to the intensity of the temperature, lay a tall, slender figure. Clare squinted. Between the haze, the morning sun in her eyes, and their golden-brown skin, it was hard to make out any features aside from their fiery red hair. Clare jumped as the person flicked their finger and lobbed what was clearly a _fireball_ at one of the nearest stones. Clare backed slowly away from Lumiere, for it was clearly them, not wanting to catch fire herself. Lumiere hummed contentedly, rolling over onto their back and basking in the heat coming from the newly-glowing boulder.

Shaking her head in amazement, Clare continued following the path until she came to a small locked gate in the northern wall of the castle grounds. Finally deciding to return to the main building, she explored the roof, finding a small tower with large openings at the top, although that was locked as well. The third floor held only two large rooms, both locked. Feeling increasingly like a caged animal, Clare decided she might as well have a look in the basement and make a complete tour of it. The basement was dark and close. For a moment, she regretted her decision. Then again, what was the worst that could happen? She was basically doomed anyway, she thought bitterly. She walked forward into the room, and could tell from the echos that it was _huge_. Was the whole basement a single room? A pulsing glow emanated from around the corner. Her feet made almost no sound on the oddly smooth tiles. Was it a furnace? A strange smell reached her nostrils, or rather several smells. The first one was acrid, and reminded her of the smell that came from singeing the hair off of animal hides. The second was definitely the smell of burning wood. The third was ever so slight, and made her pause. It was crisp, like the smell of water running through the rocky caverns to the west, before you got to the cliffs. Not something she would expect from a furnace, certainly.

Rounding the corner, she gasped. The opening encompassed most of the south wall. Wood and stones were stacked against the walls, and a fine layer of ash lay over the well-worn tiles before it. The fire, huge as it was, snapped gently, and Clare couldn't even feel the heat until she was quite close. Suddenly exhausted, she dropped to the floor with her back against one of the piles of wood. She didn't care that Mrs. Potts seemed kind, she didn't care that Lumiere had saved her life, and she certainly didn't care about her room or the garden or the Beast, wherever she was hiding. She just wanted to go home. Clare pulled up her knees to rest her forehead, and realized that tears were finally running down her face. She didn't care about that either. Who cares if someone was watching? It didn't matter in the end. The moment the elders had chosen her, her fate had been sealed.

     "It's not f- fair," she sobbed into her arms. "Why me? Why not Chou? Why not Gaston? The village would certainly be better off without him."

There was no answer but the crackling flames.

     "What am I going to do without Teresa?"

The warmth seemed to grow, draping around her like a blanket.

     "I d-don't want." She paused to wipe her stinging eyes on her sleeve. "I don't want to die," she almost whispered.

The fire hissed softly. If Clare had looked up, she might have seen two stones shift towards her from within the furnace, glowing like huge yellow eyes. But, her head remained buried in her arms as her carefully constructed denial finally crashed down around her ears.

 

* * *

 

     "Why her? You could have chosen anyone, and you chose to rip her away from me? Why?" Teresa stood in front of the elders, her furious eyes boring into theirs.

     "You know we draw them randomly my dear, we are perfectly impartia-"

     "Bullshit!" Teresa spat at Rimuto's feet. "Tell me why. Why her?!" Her voice finally got louder, and she saw Dae flinch out of the corner of her eye. He started giggling silently behind his hand.

     "Teresa, please calm yourself, we only did the random drawing as usual. We have borne you no ill will since your arrival."

     "Very well you lying bastards. I'll find out myself." Teresa spun on her heel and strode from the room, slamming the door behind her so hard the wood cracked a bit where it struck the stone sill. Rimuto sighed.

     "Do you think she's going to be a problem?"

     "She's already been a problem," said Dae, managing to get his snickering under control. "Did you know she sometimes finds the...remains? I'm not sure how she's doing it, but no matter where we bury the leftovers from our research, she seems to stumble across them far too often." 

     "What do you think, Ermita?" asked Rimuto. The other elder only sighed.

     "She is a good hunter, unfortunately. And as much as people simply tolerate her for her skills, she's distinctive enough that it would be noticed if she just disappeared."

     "Rubel, what about you? You haven't said much tonight." Rubel was silent for another moment, staring into the fire.

     "Let me talk to her. I'm sure I can find a way to keep her in line. Perhaps I could pretend to be disturbed by our experiments, and looking for a way out? I wouldn't have to tell her much. We all know how soft-hearted she can be, with the right prompting." Rubel was smiling, as much as his polite, tight-lipped mask could ever be called a smile. Dae shivered. Just about any sign of emotion on that face was too disturbing. 

     "Very well," said Rimuto. "We'll let you handle this. Keep us informed?" Ruble simply nodded and rose to his feet, leaving other elders to their business. Orsay stayed silent, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on his knee.

     "Do we trust him? He's always been a bit of an odd one. Even I have little idea of his motivations," muttered Ermita. Dae snorted.

     "Have you forgotten how far our work has come because of him? Even if he were truly disgusted by what we're doing, he's contributed to it more than any of us."

     "True," Ermita nodded. "Still, we'll have to keep an eye on him." Dae grinned.

     "Double agents! Intrigue! This is going to be fun."

 

* * *

 

Clare finally found her way back to the third floor. The balcony was bigger than her own. She sat on the railing, swinging her legs and staring down into the dark gardens with red-rimmed eyes. The moon was just rising, throwing the decorative crenelations into harsh relief. She almost felt calm after crying herself out like that. Whatever came, she would face it. That was the thought she clung to as a child, and she would cling to it now, no matter what.

     "I wouldn't jump, if I were you." The voice was soft, almost musical. Clare turned to look over her shoulder. The woman practically shimmered, some sort of silken dressing gown reflecting in the moonlight.

     "Who said I was going to jump?"

     "Well, you're all a little emotionally unstable the first day here." The woman smiled charmingly. "I like to avoid the bother of demanding a second sacrifice so soon."

     "So you're..."

     "The Beast, yes." Ophelia rolled her eyes. "So dramatic. I'm far to pretty to be called a beast, but I supposed it's more of a tradition at this point." Clare snorted. She hadn't expected the monster to be so conversational. Or so elegant. 

     "They say you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. What should I call you then?" Clare spoke without thinking. Her stomach flipped. Ophelia almost looked surprised.

     "Well done, you're already more interesting than the last one. I would like it if you called me Ophelia, but Lady works as well if you're the type that enjoys being formal."

     "I figure if you're going to eat me anyway, or whatever it is you do to them, nothing I say can really hurt my chances," Clare replied, throwing caution to the winds and turning her gaze back towards the gardens. She wasn't dead already, which was probably a good sign. "I'm Clare." She could feel Ophelia's eyes burning holes in the back of her head. Clare had to restrain a sigh of relief. If she could keep the monster interested, keep her surprised, maybe there was still a way to get out of this alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you all wanted JRR Tolkien levels of setting description, cause that's what came out of my brain lol. Hopefully I made up for it with the dialogue sections. Finally Clare and Ophelia meet....like half way through the fic.... I feel like the next chapter won't be something I can write in one sitting. Pray for me. Although apart from Gaston and Lefou, I think everyone's introduced at least, so I can start getting into some action. :D Also please feel free to point out spelling or other errors in the comments, my eyes are pretty much dead at this point. Just so you know, I never expected anyone to actually read this and I love all of you.


	7. Don't Poke The Bear

Clare stared vaguely out over the forest, still a little misty from the morning fog. The only sound was the occasional crunch of the bright red apple between her teeth. It truly seemed like her life wasn't in immediate danger, although she still wasn't sure _why_ she was here, if not to become someone's dinner. The brief conversation she'd overheard between Cogs and Mrs. Potts hadn't made anything any clearer. She'd assumed that being "sacrificed to the beast" meant death, but that wasn't the impression she was getting. There was some bigger picture here, and Clare knew figuring it out would probably be key to her survival. The other residents of the castle were betting on how long she would last. Whatever that meant, it couldn't be good.

 

     "What has you so deep in thought, human?"

 

Clare looked over from her fruit in surprise. Everyone else had already finished their food and dispersed, Cogs to the library, Mrs. Potts to the gardens, and Chip to...wherever it was that he went. That left-

 

     "You're Lumiere, right?"

 

     "The one and only!" they said cheerfully, bowing low. "Good to finally make your acquaintance."

 

     "You too. I heard you're the reason I'm still in one piece."

 

     "You're very welcome," Lumiere grinned, taking a seat on the edge of the balcony. "Did Cogsworth give you a hard time about that? He's always a little prickly when I overexert myself."

 

     "It wasn't too bad. I wasn't prepared for any kind of welcome at all, much less everyone being this pleasant to me."

 

     "Hmm." Lumiere turned towards the forest, their legs swinging off the ledge. "How long have you been here? It's hard to tell when I've been asleep."

 

     "Just a few days."

 

     "Have you met the Lady yet?"

 

     "Just once. We didn't talk much. I'm not sure what to make of her. Or you. Or any of this."

 

Lumiere was silent for a bit, staring off into space.

 

     "You didn't answer my question. What were you thinking about?"

 

Clare bought herself some time by taking a giant bite out of her apple, feeling the juice running down her fingers. Well, honesty hadn't gotten her killed so far, and it seemed like the most straightforward way to get answers.

 

     "I was wondering when Ophelia's going to eat me. Isn't that usually what happens in these cases?"

 

Lumiere actually _laughed_ at that, gripping the railing so they wouldn't fall.

 

     "Eat you? Good heavens. That's not the point of this at all. She'll only eat you if you annoy her," they said, winking one blood-red eye in Clare's direction. Clare squinted at them, trying to tell if it was supposed to be a joke.

 

     "If I'm not here as a literal sacrifice, then why am I here?" she grumbled at her apple, flushing slightly. This conversation was leaving her feeling even more wrong-footed than when she woke up this morning. She looked up again and found Lumiere staring at her, suddenly quite serious.

 

     "Talk to the Lady, if you're curious. She's your host, in a manner of speaking. Some truths are only hers to tell. And if you want more advice..." Lumiere paused. "The more honest you are with her, the better things will go." Clare nodded, humming thoughtfully to herself.

 

     "Do you know where I could find her?"

 

     "She's probably out with Chip. Just follow the path north, out through the wall. You'll find her. Or she'll find you, either way." Lumiere's unblinking stare was starting to send a tickle down Clare's spine, but she managed to nod, turning back towards the kitchen. They sat there long after Clare had gone, staring out over the treetops below the edge of the switchbacks that led up to the castle. Finally, a slight sound behind them attracted their attention.

 

     "What do you think?" Cogsworth reached out once he was close enough, and Lumiere lifted their hand so their fingers could lace together against the cold stone railing.

 

     "Good morning to you too, dear. She seems nice. I told her to be honest. I didn't think it was right to say anything else, not yet. Pity won't break the spell."

 

     "Do you really think anything else is even possible? I'm not sure anymore."

 

     "That's because you're a pessimist. My favorite pessimist," Lumiere added, seeing Cogsworth's offended scowl.

 

     "Am not. I'm just a realist. I have to be. I don't want pity, I don't want forgiveness, I don't want my old life back, I just want this to be over so I don't have to think about it anymore."

 

     "...you still think this is your fault," Lumiere said flatly.

 

     "No. Yes. I don't know. Don't look at me like that!"

 

     "Did you ask the Lady to kill that man?"

 

     "I might as well have," muttered Cogs, pressing his face into Lu's side.

 

     "No. You didn't. You didn't ask the Lady to kill him, you didn't force that damn witch to shoot first and ask questions later, and you certainly didn't force any of us to fight. We were defending ourselves as much as you." Lu bent over, pressing their mouths together gently. "I still have hope, but whatever the outcome, we'll still have each other."

 

* * *

 

The wooden door was unlocked when Clare reached it. Surprised, she pushed it open, continuing into the tall grasses beyond. There was still the occasional scrubby tree, but eventually even those dwindled to nothing. The grass smelled almost sweet, tugging at her leggings as she walked. She saw a few small rodents scampering between patches of some unidentifiable ground-cover, but other than that there was no movement. There were places where the soil and plant-life had been scoured away by strong winds, and rocky outcroppings poked up from the sea of grass. She still couldn't see very far ahead, but the sky looked strange. It looked clearer and wider somehow, like it was sloping off the edge of the world. She reached the top of another ridge, and realized why. It _was_ sloping off the edge of the world. The great ocean stretched out in front of her, and now she could hear the hiss of waves from far below. She ran down the gentle slope to the edge of the cliff, and looked down to where a large stretch of beach curved lazily around the coast and out of sight. Glancing back and forth, she finally saw a steep path cut into the stone. Navigating carefully down the rock, she felt the give of sand under her feet. The wind was less wild here, but the sharp smells of brine were stronger. Leaving her shoes by the path, she started towards the water, but paused when she heard a voice coming from her right.

 

     "Yes. Yes she _is_ quite pretty- " There was a pause. "No! Chip. Don't be ridiculous. She's been here less than a week, how am I supposed to know what she's like." Another pause. "Well I suppose I could give it a try. She's a curious little thing. I'd hate to think- Why do you say that? She what?" There was an abrupt burst of movement. Clare was frozen, torn between being pleased at the compliment and nettled at being called a 'little thing'. Ophelia's head poked out of an opening in the rock. "Well hello there! Care to join us instead of eavesdropping?" Clare blushed, shrugging, and walked around to the cave opening. It was actually quite cozy, with a sleeping shelf covered an animal skins, a crackling fire, and a strange stick construction in the corner that looked like it was held together with long strands of silk. Clare paused, seeing Chip dangling from the ceiling by nothing but his feet. Well, it wasn't stranger than anything else she'd seen. Ophelia patted the edge of the sleeping shelf next to her. "Chip and I were just talking about you, weren't we?" Chip clicked in amusement, a glint in his eye. "How have you been getting along?" Clare hesitated. "Come now, you were talkative enough the other night. Have you met everyone? Are you settling in alright?"

 

     "Y- yes," said Clare. Well, honesty and curiosity, Lumiere had said. "Everyone has been very welcoming, and I've wandered around the castle a bit. You have a lovely home." Something strange flickered behind Ophelia's eyes for a moment, but then she was smiling again.

 

     "Why thank you! I'm pleased everyone has been accommodating. I'm sorry you haven't seen as much of me, I like to let people get used to their surroundings. Meeting too many people at once can be overwhelming, especially this motley crew."

 

     Chip rolled his eyes, flicking a hand back and forth between him and Ophelia, who scoffed.

 

     "And according to Chip, I am also included in the aforementioned motley crew. Has anyone ever told you that you're very rude?"

 

     Chip nodded vigorously, tapping his fingertips together, pulling one hand down from his chin, and then pointing at Ophelia with obvious delight.

 

     "Yes, yes, you're older than I am. And yet somehow I am still blessed with better manners."

 

     Chip let out another laugh and made shooing motions with both pointer fingers. Ophelia hopped down from the bed, nodding.

 

     "Chip and I were thinking you might like a quick tour of the rest of the castle. I also have a surprise I think you will find enjoyable." Chip was grinning at them almost evilly at this point, and Clare squinted suspiciously at him, briefly forgetting Ophelia was even there. "Don't mind him, he's always too pleased with himself when he manages to have a good idea." Clare jumped slightly as Ophelia grabbed her hand, half dragging her out of the cave. Clare turned her gaze to the woman's face, and Ophelia smiled at her almost _too_ sweetly. Clare let herself be dragged with only mild grumbling. Whatever these two were plotting, at least it wasn't dangerous. She hoped.

 

Instead of following the path back towards the gardens once they were back within the stone walls, Ophelia led her off to their right. Clare hadn't been this far back behind the castle, and was surprised to see another grassless area similar to the one where she had seen Lumiere. This one was more dirt than sand, and it was packed down with the impressions of many feet. Ophelia finally let go of Clare's hand, and started rummaging in several wooden crates stacked over against the castle wall. Curious, Clare moved to peer over her shoulder, but Ophelia spun around and tossed something straight at her face. Clare's body recognized the object before her mind could, and she easily caught the heavy practice sword, dropping into a defensive stance. Suddenly she was glad of Teresa's insistent training. Ophelia raised her eyebrows, hefting a sword of her own.

 

     "This is the surprise?"

 

     "More of a test than a surprise, I suppose. I want to see if you have a skill other than being hard-headed. Only a fool would try to navigate their way to the castle in the dark, and yet here you are. I'm sure you've been told by now how I feel about fools." Ophelia's grin turned dark, and Clare was suddenly painfully aware that the other woman was not, in fact, a woman at all. Still, anything familiar was welcome, and Clare felt her body relaxing out of habit. Anything other than total focus was insufficient when she sparred with her mother. She was sure the same would be true here. She met Ophelia's eyes, refusing to show the monster the worry churning in her gut. "Good," Ophelia smirked.

 

Her first few attacks were simple, testing, and Clare parried them easily. Her feet quickly adjusted to the hard surface beneath them, and her arm to the training sword. It wasn't very well balanced, but it was far from the worst that Clare had used. She considered her opponent. Ophelia was going way too easy, and Clare's goal was to keep her interested, so... Clare blocked an easy overhead strike and sidestepped, swinging for Ophelia's waist, just to see what would happen. Ophelia lept back easily, her lips twitching in amusement.

 

     "I'm glad you aren't content to be toyed with at least." Ophelia lunged again, and Clare began to realize just how _much_ she had been holding back. Ophelia was _fast_. Even worse, Clare realized, she was relentless. Her speed allowed Clare little time between strikes to catch her breath, and it didn't take long before a sheen of sweat coated her brow. At least Ophelia and Teresa seemed similar in terms of strength. It almost struck Clare as strange that her mother swung a blade just as hard as this creature, but she had no time to dwell on her thoughts. Both were absorbed completely in the flow, strike, block, counterattack, block, and on and on. Clare could feel herself beginning to lag, the raw speed of Ophelia's attacks beginning to wear on her.

 

There was something there though. If she could just keep up a little longer, she was sure she could find it. Strike, block, counter, block, strike... Ophelia had a blind spot. Whenever Clare attempted a blow to her legs, Ophelia hesitated. It was so slight, Clare was almost surprised she'd managed to spot it. It wasn't like Ophelia couldn't see the blow coming, it was more like the height of the strike itself was always surprising. Ophelia was stronger and faster, and if she'd always been able to rely on those to win, maybe she'd never even considered the idea of having holes in her defense. Ophelia swung from the left, and Clare parried. Pushing her tired muscles into one more burst of speed, she lunged _forward_ , swinging low. Ophelia blocked, but that split second of hesitation was enough. Finally well within Ophelia's guard, Clare swept her leg, feeling it connect with the other woman's knees and dropping her onto her back. Ophelia hit the ground with an undignified thud, and Clare jumped back into her previous stance, panting.

 

Ophelia didn't move. She was sprawled across the dusty ground, her sword laying where it had fallen. Her mouth dropped open, staring up at Clare in disbelief. She looked so comical without her usual confident aura that Clare couldn't help laughing. Ophelia's braid had started escaping from its ties and there was a smudge of dirt across her cheek. For a moment, she looked almost human. Realizing Ophelia was still staring at her, Clare reached down to help her up.

 

     "Sorry, sorry. You just looked so surprised. Did you know you hesitate when you have to block low?" Ophelia seemed almost as shocked at Clare's words as at the hand she was being offered. Taking it hesitantly, she pulled herself to her feet.

 

     "I supposed that makes sense. I'll never get used to this height," Ophelia said, still not sounding like herself. "I'm used to being so low that I only have to defend from above, or so high that a human couldn't reach me anyway." She blinked, suddenly realizing what she was saying. Clare sighed. What the hell, she might as well go for it.

 

     "It's fine. It's blatantly clear that none of you are human, as much as you might look it. I don't know what you kind of monster you were, obviously, but you don't have to censor yourself for my sake," Clare offered. Ophelia scowled.

 

     "It's not what we _were_. It's what we still _are_. It's what we hope to be again. You say not to censor myself, but you could never understand how _stifling_ it is, being trapped in this form even if I told you. You say this, but it doesn't change the fact that you're my prisoner, and you could never have any motivation other than your own safety." Ophelia's pupils shifted, contracting into inhuman slits. "Well, never fear, _human_." She managed to make it sound like an insult. "You're the last, and once the time runs out, you'll be free to return to your village. As long as you don't vex me too much. Gods, I was a fool to think I could ever break this curse!" Ophelia spat, stalking back towards the path, and out of sight.

A curse? They were trapped? What did Ophelia mean, the last? Had Lumiere been telling the truth? Was she really going to be set free? Clare's head spun, realizing she had unknowingly crossed some sort of line, and now had even more questions than before. How could so many of her assumptions have been wrong? She could feel a headache building behind her eyes, matching the cramps already spreading through her muscles. She walked to the grass absently and dropped to the ground so she could stretch. What on earth was going on here?

 

 

* * *

 

 

Teresa paced back and forth like she was determined to wear a hole in the floor. She knew she was throwing herself into this because Clare was gone. She also didn't care. As long as she didn't give in to despair, she was still keeping her promise. The council of elders was up to something unholy, and she was going to find out what, even if only for revenge. They had taken her _child_. She paused.

 

     "What do you want."

 

Rubel smiled primly from where he leaned against the door frame.

 

     "May I come in?"

 

     "No. What do you want."

 

The man sighed, glancing over his shoulder briefly.

 

     "They want me to keep you out of the way."

 

     "Of course they do. Why are you telling me this? You can't be hoping I'll just cooperate."

 

     "Oh no. I cannot say for sure how much you know, but luckily, neither can they. I'm suggesting that you keep it that way. I won't do my job unless you force my hand."

 

     "So why are you here?"

 

     "I volunteered. They realized they may have...miscalculated."

 

     "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

 

Rubel still wouldn't meet her eyes, and was casually inspecting his nails.

 

     "Aren't you curious? Imagine their goal is to keep your attention elsewhere. Clare had become too self-sufficient to keep you completely absorbed with her protection. Perhaps they decided grief would keep you out of the way just as nicely." He finally looked up, gauging her reaction. Teresa turned white with fury.

 

     "I _knew it_. The scum will pay for that once I find out what they're doing to those bodies." she snapped. She whirled around, grabbing her cloak and hunting knife from the table. Shoving past Rubel and out the door, she paused. "You still haven't answered me. They told you to keep me quiet, and you've done the exact opposite. Whose side are you on?"

 

     "Why, I'm on my own side, of course. Although, I would never say no to a little justice. Their experiments are truly horrible, are they not?" Rubel's expression was as mild as ever, betraying nothing of his actual thoughts on the matter.

 

Teresa gave a frustrated growl, but did not question him further as she stalked off into the night.

 

Rubel stared after her, his body starting to shake ever so slightly. Excitement? Fear? He wasn't sure. Did Teresa know her eyes went gold when she was angry? He certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell her. Perhaps he'd just been seeing things, after all. The corners of Rubel's mouth twitched. They curled, up and up, into a grin that would've looked far more natural on Dae's face than his own. Nothing was more satisfying than pure chance fitting so artfully together with his carefully laid plans. Teresa had given away more than enough to satisfy his fellow elders. Schooling his features back into their normal places, he sauntered back towards the council hall to make his report.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided it was easier to make it obvious what Chip was saying than to do translations at the end of the chapter. Then at some point I will start doing Chip's dialogue in italics, for reasons that will make sense later.
> 
> In the end, this is a Claymore fic, so there had to be swords. My only experience is in fencing though, so please forgive my lack of short-sword knowledge.
> 
> This chapter was going to be maybe another 2000 words, but I ended up splitting it up differently, just cause it flowed better. I think this will bring me past the 10,000 word mark, which...jfc I have no idea how this happened.


	8. Breathe In, Breathe Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note that all of Chip's dialogue is now written in italics. Enjoy!

     "I don't know Gaston, she looks pretty dead to me."

     "Shut up Lefou. She has a pulse."

     "But...then why is there so much blood on her face?"

     "Head wounds always bleed like that, idiot."

Lefou flinched, and Clare wrinkled her nose from where she hid behind a tree. She was curious what they were looking at, but Gaston was so mean to her. Lefou wasn't as bad, but he always ended up following the older boy's lead. She definitely wasn't coming out of hiding till they were gone. But maybe it would be safe just to take a peek?

Suddenly she was floating, ghost-like above the scene. They were standing over the body of a young woman. Her blond hair was caked with blood, and it looked like she'd been dragging herself towards the village when she had passed out. Gaston was crouched over the body, poking it roughly with a stick while Lefou hovered anxiously behind him.

     "If she's alive, shouldn't we go get some help?"

     "Nah. She has a pulse, but it's weak. She'll be dead soon anyway." Already bored, Gaston tossed aside his stick and turned back down the path. It wasn't like he hadn't seen a dead body before. "Come on, Lefou."

Lefou looked nervously back and forth between his friend and the body, before reluctantly turning to follow Gaston back towards the village. Clare watched her younger self creep out from behind a tree, dropping to her knees beside the body. Gaston was right, the woman did have a pulse.

     "Hello? Hey lady, please wake up! Are you ok?" Clare managed to turn the woman onto her back, and shook her shoulders gently. "Can you hear me?" There was no response. Clare chewed her lip thoughtfully, and reached into her satchel to grab her water skein. Taking a deep breath, she dumped the entire thing over the woman's unconscious face. Her eyes snapped open, but Clare barely had time to register this before the woman had stumbled to her feet, backing away in terror, and then fallen back over almost immediately into another tree. "Don't worry! I'm not going to hurt you! Are you ok?"

     "Where- where am I?" the woman croaked.

     "You're near my village. I can help you walk there, we have a healer. What's your name?"

The woman hesitated.

     "I'm not sure. I think it started with a T, but I can't remember anything else."

     "I guess you hit your head pretty hard. Hey, maybe I can guess it! Tanya? Talia? Terry?" The woman shook her head after each one, but a small smile started to show on her pain-lined face. "Come on, I'll help you walk. Terence?"

     "Gods, I hope not," the woman muttered.

Clare laughed along with her younger self, watching Teresa and her walk back towards her village. Their village. It felt good to not be walking alone.

 

Clare turned, floating up above the canopy of the forest. The fluttering green carpet whispered up at her. If only the trees could speak, how much more would she know about her adoptive mother? She glanced behind her, and could just barely see the cliffs jutting up towards where Ophelia's castle sat, usually looming ominously over the town. It looked different now. It seemed smaller somehow, less threatening. Clare frowned. Was it because she had been there? Because everyone had been so kind to her? She'd been treated better as a "sacrifice" than she ever had as an orphaned child, at least before Teresa. Or was it because she was curious about the curse, or the enigmatic woman who seemed to be at its heart? She could feel herself slowly awakening, her dream and her questions still draped over her mind like a fog.

 

_*tap tap*_

 

Still blinking sleepily, Clare rolled over to face the door.

     "Yes?"

     "It's me. Ophelia. Could I come in?"

     "Sure." Clare sat up in bed, surprised at the hesitancy in the other woman's tone. It was nothing like the pain and rage of her outburst after their sparring match, and nothing like the smooth, confident tone she usually took. The door creaked as Ophelia entered, a cloth-wrapped object clutched in one hand. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

     "Mrs. Potts has informed me that I should...apologize. I did not mean...or...rather...I'm sorry for yelling," Ophelia finally said, although a bit stiffly. She was looking determinedly anywhere except at Clare.

     "I accept your apology," Clare answered firmly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

     "Oh. You do? Well...ok then." Ophelia had clearly been expecting something different, and fiddled with the item in her hands for a moment. "I also brought this. I can't let you visit, but I hoped maybe this would suffice until you...until you leave. Still not meeting Clare's eyes, she handed her the object quite abruptly, and turned to leave. "Just ask the mirror, and it will show you anyone you wish to see."

Clare unwrapped the mirror, staring at it curiously for a moment.

     "You can't let me visit? Why not, if you're going to let me leave anyway?"

Ophelia paused in the doorway. She sighed, and Clare saw her shoulders droop almost imperceptibly.

     "If you leave, that means I've given up. Which I have, but I can't let any of the others know that. Not until there's no hope at all. I owe them too much. I said you were the last chance for us to break this curse, and I meant it. They all know it, too. I have to...I can't let you leave until it's all over, for better or for worse."

     "Can't you tell me anything more about the curse? Maybe I could help?"

     "That's oddly kind of you, for a human. No. If you ever broke the curse, it would have to occur naturally. It would have to be of your own volition. If I told you the terms of the curse, that choice would be taken away." She paused. "I'll be in the library when you're done with the mirror."

Clare looked up again to thank her, but Ophelia had already disappeared, shutting the door behind her. The click of the latch echoed loudly in the silent room. Clare ran a finger softly over the delicate silver designs around the edges of the mirror.

     "Show me Teresa," she whispered. The surface shimmered like water under sunlight, and then cleared. She looked down at her mother as if she were floating before her. Teresa crept through the undergrowth, tracking some animal or another. Her face looked a bit more stern than when Clare left the village, but her eyes still held the usual spark. Clare gave a sigh of relief. Even in grief, her mother was going to be ok. She wished she could spare Teresa the waiting and somehow let her know she would be coming home. Maybe there was a way to get Ophelia to allow it? Even just a simple message would do, but that was a conversation for later. Clare flopped back onto the bed on her belly, gazing happily into the mirror. Clare and her mother were both alive and reasonably well, and she wouldn't let anything get in the way of their reunion.

* * *

Clare buried her hands into the dense foliage, enjoying the smell that rose off the leaves as they were disturbed. The peppers were finally ready to bring in. The nights were getting chillier, and they wouldn't keep producing much longer. Mrs. Potts was down the path a little ways, making sure the insect hives were carefully insulated with straw. It was fairly temperate near the ocean, but their higher elevation resulted in strong winds that were too cold for the bees' comfort.

     "Clare, be a dear and bring me another one from the shed, would you?" Mrs. Potts kept working, but rotated her head around to face Clare as she asked. Clare nodded, grimacing slightly. She would never get used to that. Walking over to the small building, she hefted another straw bale onto her hip.

     "Do you think there'll be enough?"

     "Oh yes. We had a nice hot summer this year, so it was very easy to dry enough grass."

They worked in silence again for a while, until Clare spoke up.

     "Can I ask you something?"

     "Sure dearie."

     "Why are you all so nice to me?"

Mrs. Potts hummed thoughtfully.

     "Well, we've tried to be nice to everyone who's come through our castle. We try to think of them as guests, even though the circumstances aren't ideal. They're also in a position to be a great help to us, just by virtue of being here. Unfortunately, a lot of them have been-" she trailed off, clearly trying to find a polite way to phrase her thought. "Several of them were quite the ruffians. The Lady ended up having to deal with them rather harshly. A few of them stayed for a time, but ended up wanting new lives somewhere else."

     "And you just...let them go?"

     "Well, we may have...firmly told them that there would be consequences if they went back to your village and started blabbing our secrets. And it's better than being eaten outright, as far as they were concerned. At any rate, those are the usual reasons." She paused again, using a short knife to snap the twine holding the new bale together. "You, on the other hand, are a bit different. You're not the usual riffraff they send. You seem like a decent human being, which is rare as it is. And the Lady actually seems to enjoy your company, which is even rarer. Not to mention the fact that _we_ enjoy your company. Do you know how often our guests actually come to breakfast with us on the first morning? In fact, it hadn't happened once before you. It's understandable of course, but you can see why we're enjoying meeting someone who's managed to take it all in stride."

Clare laughed at that.

     "Well, I was kind of put at ease by everyone saving my life, and continually reassuring me that I won't be eaten unless I misbehave. I also did cry pretty hard that second night, believe it or not."

     "Ah. Yes. Rabona told me about that. I'm glad you had her for company." Mrs. Potts was staring at her gloved hands, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

     "Rabona? There's someone I haven't met yet?"

     "Did no one introduce you? Oh good heavens, some hosts we are. She is Rabona," Mrs. Potts said, gesturing back towards the castle.

     "The castle has a name?"

     "No, you misunderstand, dearie. The castle doesn't just have a name. She's _alive_. She's trapped by this curse, just as we all are. She can't roam freely anymore, but she's still as awake and aware as you and me. The great fireplace in the basement is her heart." Mrs. Potts' voice was low and soothing, as though she were reciting a bedtime story. "She was once a great city, in some far off land, stretching for miles in all directions. Countless people lived within her, and she grew to be conscious of their loves and their losses, of the earth around her, of the feeling of time as it passed. That is how she was born. Then, there was a Great War, and the magicians of the city called upon her to defend her people. And fight she did. But the enemy had weapons that threw great boulders full of black flames, and sorcerers who made the ground quake beneath her. Her streets ran with her people's blood, and she was almost destroyed completely. For the first time, she felt true grief, and this is what created her soul. We don't know how she came to be on this island, and neither does she. She is much smaller now, but no less powerful. As living stone, she can change her shape in many ways. She resembled a stone giant when we first met her, and she shifted to become our shelter when we were cursed. I think she's pleased to have people to protect once again." Mrs. Potts blinked, suddenly remembering Clare's presence. "Rabona was listening to you that night, and told me you were upset, but no more than that. She can move floors and such as we need, and if we were ever attacked I suppose she could help us then as well. She also helps keep the inside of the castle warm enough for the Lady to stay awake, once it gets chilly outside. Cold-blooded, you know." The stone path grumbled amiably beneath their feet, and Clare jumped.

     "Now I _know_ I'll never get used to this place," she groaned.

Mrs. Potts laughed, patting her on the shoulder so heavily Clare almost fell over.

     "Never mind that. We're all a bit strange here, but you seem to be getting alone just fine. Now, I think it's almost time for lunch. Would you mind getting Ophelia? She was going down to the beach, last I checked. She has apologized to you properly, yes?"

     "She did," Clare said softly. "It was...surprising."

     "Ophelia can be a mystery, even to us," Mrs. Potts mused. "It catches me off-guard from time to time, feeling so protective over someone who acts so strong."

     "That reminds me of something my mother used to say," laughed Clare. "Maybe everyone should start calling you 'Mother Potts' instead."

     "Hush! You're making me feel even older than I am. Now shoo child, go get Ophelia. She didn't eat her breakfast, she must be starving." Mrs. Potts watched Clare head off down the path to the northern gate. "You know Rabona, I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I can't help feeling hopeful about this one." The ground beneath her grumbled in agreement.

 

Clare loved looking down at the ocean. She had never been north of the woods before. The plains to the south of her village were beautiful in their own right, crisscrossed with paths that lead off to other villages, she supposed. The rolling hills to the east and west led eventually to mountains, but those were the hunting grounds of awakened beasts, so she seldom went there. The ocean was different. It made her feel tiny before the great expanse of water, and she imagined she could smell the scents of other islands on the buffeting wind. Were there other islands? She hoped there were. It seemed impossibly lonely to be the only inhabited land in the world. The waves rushed in and out and she carefully navigated the path down to the water. It was grey and misty, so she had to squint before she could make out Ophelia's form. She was standing a ways out, the water up to her waist, staring out at the rolling waves, swaying gently back and forth as the ocean breathed around her.

Clare was almost reluctant to disturb her, mostly because she looked so peaceful, but also because she realized all at once that Ophelia was completely naked. Patches of her skin shimmered with a strange iridescence, and Clare felt intrusive even for noticing. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

     "Ophelia? It's time to come eat..." She wasn't even sure why she felt so nervous suddenly. Thankfully Ophelia heard her, looking over her shoulder to see who it was. She sighed, turning from the grim expanse before her reluctantly and wading back towards the shore. Finally she stood before Clare, who realized too late that she should definitely stop staring. But Ophelia had _scales_. The shimmering patches were various shades of green and blue, depending on how the light hit them. If they were this colorful when it was cloudy, how much more vibrant would they be in sunlight? Clare reached out a hand towards Ophelia's shoulder, but suddenly realized what she was doing and jerked it back with a start.

     "Uh. Sorry! It's um. It's time for lunch," she mumbled, blushing uncomfortably. She managed to look up at Ophelia, whose piercing gaze made her freeze on the spot. Ophelia took Clare's hand, gently, like she thought Clare would bolt at any moment. She raised the hand gently to her shoulder, where her pale skin met scales. Clare's eyes bounced back and forth between Ophelia's face and shoulder, not at all sure what was happening. But if she had permission... Clare slowly ran her fingers over the scales, fascinated. They were cool and damp with saltwater, but they were much softer than she would've guessed. The skin around them was like _ice_. The scales moved just as smoothly, sliding over Ophelia's muscles as she shifted under Clare's touch. _Beautiful_. Ophelia tensed, and Clare realized that she had spoken out loud. Whoops. They met eyes again, and Clare was relieved to see that the Lady looked just as unsure as Clare felt. She slowly removed her hand, rubbing the back of her neck nervously.

     "I think I should go see if Mrs. Potts needs help. Are you- are you coming?"

Ophelia was still looking at her like she'd never really seen her before, but managed to nod. Clare climbed back up to the cliff top, feeling Ophelia's eyes on her the whole way. She waited until she was back within the castle walls to pause for a moment. Clare stared down at her fingertips, and then back along the path towards the ocean, hoping she hadn't just made a terrible mistake.

* * *

Every morning Clare awoke to the stone walls of the castle, it got a little easier, a little less jarring. She gave a sleepy groan, turning over under the covers. The slightest bit of cold blue light was creeping in under her door. How early was it? Maybe she should go back to bed. The floor grumbled under her bed, and she gave a muffled snort. She still wasn't used to the fact that the stone beneath her feet was very much _alive_.

     "I'm up Rabona, I'm up," she said, stretching her shoulders with a pop as she rose. She intended on getting dressed and heading down to the kitchen, but it looked like Rabona had other ideas. Clare was getting better at noticing when the castle wanted something, and the stone tiles beneath her were definitely trying to direct her way.

     "What do you want to show me?" Clare didn't expect an answer, but kept following the gentle nudges. It must be pretty early if everyone was still asleep, Clare mused. She didn't hear a peep as the castle led her through the halls, and finally up to the roof. She looked around, confused. The only thing up here was the tower, and it was always locked. There was a clicking noise from the door at the base, and it swung open with a soft creak. Clare gulped.

     "Are you sure I'm allowed in here?" she asked under her breath. The only response was a gentle push forward from the roof tiles. Shrugging nervously, Clare entered the door and started up the steep, spiraling staircase. There were no windows to break up the darkness, and she climbed mostly by feel. Cobwebs caught on her hair, and she could almost feel the dust of the place settling into her clothes. Finally, she emerged, blinking, into a small room. There was a window, a small wooden stool, and a table in the center of the room. Clare barely noticed all this. She took a step forward, and then another. The glass dome glittered in the light of the sunrise, almost blinding after the close darkness of the tower. The single rose hung beneath it, suspended by nothing but air. The bottom of the dome was carpeted in petals, their purple so deep it was almost black. As Clare watched, entranced, a petal fell from the stem, floating down to rest against its fellows. A single one was left, clinging precariously to the stem. Clare realized she was holding her breath. She was definitely _not_ supposed to be here. Turning quickly to leave, she glanced back once more at the mostly-dead rose beneath the glass. She wasn't sure why, but she abruptly had the horrible feeling that she was running out of time.

* * *

Days passed, then another week, then two, then a month, and Ophelia made no mention of their awkward moment on the beach. Clare was both relieved and disappointed somehow, but she definitely wasn't going to press the issue. The time flowed easily, learning how to talk with Chip from some handy books in the library, gardening with Mrs. Potts, and sparring with Ophelia. This last activity was surprisingly enjoyable, as Ophelia still kept Clare on her toes. She was smart, she was quick, and she was just as much of a challenge as Teresa. Often the only edge Clare had was her grasp of strategy, but they both learned from each other until they were fairly evenly matched, in spite of Ophelia's inhuman abilities and the glint of danger behind her eyes. Their matches always ended with grins and a lot of sweat and a friendly hand up for whoever had gotten knocked on their ass. If their hands occasionally lingered for longer than was strictly necessary, neither of them was going to mention it.

     "Can I ask you guys a personal question?" Clare asked one morning at breakfast. Lumiere, Cogsworth, and Chip had all joined her on the balcony, where they often chatted for a while after they were done eating. Cogs and Lu exchanged worried glances.

     "Can't promise I'll answer, but sure," Cogs replied finally.

     "Well, I know you can shoot fire and like intense heat, Lu. Chip, you can climb anything and braid and weave better than anyone I've ever seen. What can you do, Cogs? Are these things related to your real forms?"

     "That's two personal questions," he answered, grinning. "Yes, we all have advantages and disadvantages related to our true forms. For example, Lu has this _ridiculous_ horde they keep under- " Cogs was cut off as Lu clapped both their hands over his mouth.

     "Don't you _dare_ ," growled Lu, making sure Cogs nodded before they removed their hands.

     "Ok, ok, that was a low blow. You see what I mean though. I have enhanced senses in pretty much every way you can think of, but on the other hand, my legs are a little...uncooperative," Cogs continued. "That's how I knew when you were coming, and that you were being chased by those creatures. The curse makes it tricky though, because we're stuck in this limbo. We can't turn back into our true forms, but we also can't fully take our human forms either."

      _Which is why I look human, but still have to suck the liquefied guts out of the animals I eat,_ Chip added with a toothy grin. Lumiere responded by gagging dramatically.

     "So why do you all have a human form, but I don't have a monstrous form?"

     "No one knows," Cogs said with a shrug. "Witches or people who research magic might have more answers, but they all tend to be assholes. Good luck getting them to share."

     "It's quite the mystery," added Lumiere. "Why do some animals have monstrous forms, and some don't? How was that witch even able to curse us into this form? Why are some born with magical gifts and some can gain them by study?"

      _You should've been a teacher,_ said Chip, rolling his eyes. _If only you didn't have that annoying habit of toasting anyone who comes within a mile of your lair._

     "I didn't toast you," Lu answered mildly. "That's one of the few benefits to having a human form. My hands are finally small enough to hold a book without destroying it."

Clare snorted.

     "Well, once the curse is broken and you all turn back, I'll come read to you as often as you want. As long as you promise not to toast me." She was met with silence. Clare looked up, worried she'd said something wrong again, and saw the others staring at her in disbelief. "If- if you want me to? I'm curious about all those questions too, so..." She trailed off awkwardly.

     "You...you are something else, human," said Lu in an oddly strangled voice. Cogs' face appeared to be having trouble deciding on an expression, and eventually he turned abruptly and wheeled back into the kitchen. Lu sighed and followed him a moment later, leaving Clare and Chip alone on the balcony.

     "What did I say?" muttered Clare. "Are they really so sure I won't be able to break the curse?" Chip tapped her shoulder to get her attention.

      _They don't want to get their hopes up. And no one's really-_ his hands returned to his lap briefly as he tried to think. _They're surprised you wouldn't fear us, even in our real forms._

     "I don't _think_ I would. Although I don't really know what you're like in those forms, since you can't show me." Clare swung her legs nervously, enjoying the grounding feeling of her heels hitting stone.

      _That's not entirely true, little one. We can't revert to our true forms completely, but we do have a little leeway. Would you like to see more? I doubt the others would be comfortable, but I've had a few hundred years more than them to gain some healthy vanity about my appearance._

Clare nodded mutely, suddenly even more anxious. Chip jumped nimbly from the wall, standing in the middle of the floor. He breathed in slowly, once, twice, and his body began to shift before her very eyes. His skin shimmered in the sunlight like armor, and small vibrant stripes of red and brown slid down his arms. His limbs became thinner, and two sets of small spines began protruding from his spine. His nose disappeared into his face, and three more sets of glittering black eyes emerged.

      _Well?_

     "I'm not going to run screaming, if that's what you're worried about." Clare stared at him, delighted. "You're a spider?"

      _Essentially, yes,_ he replied, panting slightly. _This is about as far as I can go without starting to cause myself pain. I wish you could see me as I truly am, then you really would run screaming._

Clare opened her mouth to object, but saw his expression and quickly realized he was joking.

     "Only if you try to suck out my liquefied guts," she replied with a laugh.

* * *

Ophelia was barely paying attention, and Clare had almost sent her sprawling several times already. It was getting colder at night, and she was having more and more trouble moving properly. The castle stayed warm enough, but outside she was getting increasingly lethargic. Too much so to be sparring when she was this distracted, even with practice swords.

She couldn't concentrate. Every time she tried to clear her mind, all she saw was that final petal, dangling like a blade above her head. Losing her life wasn't part of the curse itself, but Ophelia was under no illusions about the Witch's capacity to kill. Just trapping them all in human form wouldn't be nearly enough to sate her need for revenge. Ophelia wasn't sure who would win, considering that the Witch had surely grown in power since the last time they fought. She just hoped that Clare would be safely gone by then, and that the Witch would remain unaware of her. If anything happened to Clare, she would-

Clare's back hit the stone wall with an unpleasent thud.

     "Ophelia!"

Finally yanked out of her thoughts, Ophelia realized she had struck Clare so hard that she had been thrown completely clear of the practice area, all the way to the wall of the castle. Clare got back to her feet, rubbing he back and groaning. Confused how she had lost control of her strength, Ophelia looked down at her hands, and flinched. The small patches of scales had spread, almost covering her hands and arms entirely. Sharp white claws had started to poke out from her fingertips, and she could feel her teeth pricking into her lower lip. She hissed angrily, feeling the restrictive magic of the curse starting to bite into her skin.

     "Ophelia?" Clare realized what was happening, and took a careful step closer. She wiped the sweat from her eyes, trying to catch her breath.

     "Why aren't you running."

     "It's still you, isn't it? You just look different."

     "I'm not _human_ , Clare. I could kill you and eat you faster than you could blink."

     "I don't think you will. You haven't yet." She kept walking towards Ophelia, pausing between each step, but never stopping, until finally she was within reach. Ophelia stared at her, unblinking.

     "Why are you doing this? Why aren't you afraid? I've killed people from your village, what makes you think I won't kill you? And why are you acting like you _care_?"

     "I don't know what this says about me, but after they way they treated my mother and I...I'm not totally sure I care about what you did to them. Either way, you've all been better to me than they were. You've already promised I can leave after everything is said and done. Plus if you killed me, you wouldn't have anyone to knock on their ass on a daily basis. Now, show me, Ophelia." Clare reached out, gently taking hold of Ophelia's wrists.

     "Show you?" Something twisted in Ophelia's chest.

     "Yes. If that's ok? However much you can show me, however much you _want_ to show me, I..." There was a strange tightness in Clare's voice as she broke off. "Or tell me to leave. It's your choice."

     "You don't understand. If I let go of my control, even a little, I'll afraid I'll hurt you. I'll _want_ to hurt you. And for some reason, that actually bothers me."

     "Don't you trust me to handle myself?" Clare replied mildly. "I do have a sword, you know." The other woman scowled. Suddenly, Ophelia's eyes were no longer green. Her pupils had stretched into thin vertical slits, and her newly golden irises had expanded, blotting out the whites. The distinct feeling of suddenly being _prey_ sent a shudder of fear down Clare's spine. She felt the skin of Ophelia's wrists shifting oddly, and looked down to see small iridescent scales spreading further out under her fingers. The other woman turned her hands palm upwards, and Clare felt claws pricking into her wrists. Her gaze drifted back up, pausing at Ophelia's neck where the scales melded back into pale skin. For some reason, it was hard to look away. Finally she managed to drag her eyes back up to Ophelia's face, and she blinked in surprise. The wild golden eyes bored into Clare's brown ones, and they both swayed a little as though hypnotized by the other. Ophelia's lips were slightly parted, her breath coming a little faster with the effort of transforming, and though Clare wouldn't call them fangs, her canine teeth were markedly sharper and bigger than before. Overcome with curiosity, Clare freed one of her hands and reached towards Ophelia's face, until she felt her tense, claws digging painfully into Clare's other wrist.

     "Oh. Sorry. Can I, uh. Can I touch you?" Clare flushed slightly, knowing how that sounded, but she wasn't sure how else to phrase it. Ophelia huffed with amusement, and nodded her head. Clare reached out, more slowly this time, and ran a finger over the points of Ophelia's ears. They were sharper than before, as were her cheekbones. Ophelia's eyes fluttered closed as Clare continued to run her fingertips over her face, the difference in their body temperatures making it all the more pleasurable. Clare's other hand moved up the side of her neck, tracing the border between scales and flesh, and Ophelia's hands dropped unconsciously to Clare's hips as she sighed again. Then she felt two of Clare's fingers brush across her lower lip, and her eyes snapped open. "Are they sharp?"

     "Y-yes," Ophelia breathed, and something curled pleasantly inside her as Clare's fingers slid into her mouth, brushing the tips of her teeth. She pulled Clare closer, running her tongue across her fingers. Clare gasped, pulling back her hand in surprise. Ophelia laughed, flicking her new long, forked tongue across her lips. Clare wasn't disgusted, didn't even seem very _bothered_ by her partial transformation. "You really aren't afraid, are you? I'd be able to taste it. Well? What do you think, now that you've touched?" Ophelia's entire body was tensed with the effort it took to keep still, but somehow her tone was as pleasant as ever. Clare didn't answer, her eyes still fixed on the creature's lips, on her strange, flickering tongue... A warm hand slid across the back of Ophelia's neck, pulling her in, and she felt Clare's lips brush across hers. Clare moved away slightly, trying to gauge her reaction. A strange expression flickered across Ophelia's face, but she chased Clare's lips until they met again.

     "I feel like I've been saying this a lot today, but try not to eat me alive."

     "No promises."

* * *

As it happened, it was one of those uncommon days when everyone wandered into the kitchen at around the same time. Ophelia was feeling more relaxed than usual, so everyone mumbled sleepy good-mornings and set about fixing breakfast.

Then the door slammed open, making Cogs jump and drop his bowl with a crash. Clare stood, half dressed and panting, clutching Ophelia's mirror in one hand.

     "It's my fault, I didn't check on her for a while, it seemed like she was doing ok! I didn't see anything wrong before, I don't know what I missed, I can't even tell where she _is_ -"

     "Clare!" Lumiere was the first to recover their wits, stepping forward with their hands out. "Slow down, what's wrong?"

     "It's my mother!" Clare choked out, flipping the mirror around so everyone could see. The image was almost too dark to make out, but as they all crowded around to look, the mirror cleared a bit. The woman was being dragged by her arms into what looked like a damp stone basement, kicking and screaming at her captors. The mirror couldn't convey sound, but her face was contorted in fury. Her long blond hair whipped around her face, and she almost managed to bite one of the men as they chained her to one of the walls. If Clare hadn't been so panicked, she might have wondered about their reactions. Chip's face went totally blank. Ophelia turned even paler than usual, and gripped the edge of the table so hard it cracked. Cogsworth seemed almost resigned, and Lumiere started emitting a small stream of smoke and sparks with every breath. Noticing none of this, Clare grabbed Ophelia's hands. "I can't leave her like that, you have to let me go! I promise I'll come back, I promise, I promise, just please let me go to her!"

     "I- Yes. It's still early, you might be able to get there by sundown now that you know the way. Please..." Ophelia's voice cracked. For a moment she seemed torn. "Yes." Her voice was firmer this time. "Go. Be careful."

     "Thank you, _thank you_ , I will. And I promise, I _will_ come back." Clare grabbed Ophelia's face, kissed her square on the lips, and then turned and ran from the kitchen without hesitation, leaving the mirror behind her.

The entire room seemed to let out a breath it had been holding in. Ophelia sank shakily into a chair.

      _It was her,_ Chip said, before anyone else could speak. _I never forget a face._

     "Do you think Clare knows?" whispered Mrs. Potts.

     "Of course she knows!" snapped Lumiere. "Of course! She was too kind. She was too good to be true. It would be just like that Witch to give us a taste of hope, right before she crushes the life out of us." Cogsworth elbowed his partner in the ribs, nodding surreptitiously towards Ophelia, whose head was sinking deeper into her hands at every word. The stone floor started grumbling beneath them.

     "They're right." Everyone fell silent. "Whether Clare knew or not, we've lost. The Witch must be nearby, our time has run out, and she isn't coming back." Ophelia looked around the room, as though daring anyone to contradict her. Chip was the only one who met her gaze.

      _You're wrong. You can all give up if you want, but I'm not going to waste my final days in despair._ He glared at each one of them in turn, before stalking out to sit on the balcony. Some time later, he heard Mrs. Potts join him. _I suppose you're going to tell me she's betrayed us too?_ he said, turning to face her.

     "No, I'm not. I don't know how she knows that woman, or what she knows about Teresa's past with Irene, but the dear girl wouldn't do this to us." As they watched Clare leave the gate and disappear into the edge of the forest, a cold wind started blowing in from the sea. Even the weak morning sunlight had disappeared behind the clouds. Chip shivered.

      _Can you feel it? She'll be here soon. A few days, I'd guess._

     "Then we have a few days to prepare," Mrs. Potts said firmly. Her voice deepened into a growl, and she rested a heavy hand on the stones beneath her feet. "Are you ready, Rabona? There may still be a chance." The walls of the castle began to hum, so low Mrs. Potts could feel it in her teeth. She looked up at Chip, her face beginning to lengthen, and the impressions of teeth appearing behind her lips. "Be a dear and help me bring more wood to the basement? We're going to need a _lot_ of it."

Chip smirked, hopping off his perch on the railing.

      _Now that's more like it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from ["Human"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saRIsxTzfos)


	9. Time to Kill the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A witch, an amnesiac, a beast, a snake charmer, a spy, and an angry mob all walk into the woods. It sounds like the setup to a bad joke.

     "You better not embarrass me in there," Gaston hissed, gripping the back of Lefou's neck just a little too hard.

     "I won't. I won't." Lefou squirmed. "I know it must be an important job if they want to see us directly. I won't say a word."

     "Good."

Gaston tapped briskly on the door, not waiting for an answer before he strode into the room. Lefou followed, trying very hard not to start biting at his nails.

     "Ah, excellent." Rimuto turned in his seat to face Gaston. "We have something a bit different for you this time."

     "Clearly, if you felt the need to see us in person. We aren't collecting more 'volunteers' for your studies?"

     "No. Although similar discretion will be required."

Lefou could feel the sweat already starting to trickle down his scalp. He _hated_ this. Sometimes he wished he'd never accepted these jobs in the first place, but he knew what would happen if he tried to back out now. Gaston's irritated tone suddenly drew Lefou's attention with a jolt of his stomach.

     "So you just want us to follow her? Nothing else? That seems a little subtle for you lot," Gaston growled.

     "You will watch your tongue," replied Rado. His voice was utterly mild, but Lefou risked a glance at his face, expecting to see venom dripping from his teeth. Gaston shut his mouth with a click.

     "Subtle indeed. You may have your fun yet, Gaston. Follow her, but don't interfere unless she finds our laboratory. If she does, well," Rimuto smiled pleasantly. "See to it that she never leaves."

     "I'd prefer if you left her alive though," Rubel cut in. "I believe she could be an interesting test subject."

     "Sympathy for the enemy?" said Ermita. His eyes narrowed at Rubel like a fox that had caught the scent of its prey. Rubel was suddenly very glad of his own excellent poker face.

     "He's right. Aren't you curious how she keeps finding our remains? At least leave her alive until I can pick at her for a bit," said Dae from his corner.

Even Gaston wrinkled his nose at that.

     "Alright, alright. We're on it. We want more than our usual fee though. Lefou at least is gonna need patching up if we can't catch her off-guard."

Rimuto glanced around the room for reactions, and then nodded shortly. Gaston grinned, and then without another word he spun on his heel and marched out, Lefou in tow.

 

     "Ah, thank the gods that went quickly," sighed Orsay. "Am I the only one that finds those ruffians distasteful?"

     "If you have a better way for us to get fresh material, I would be delighted to hear it," said Rimuto, the fatigue beginning to show in his voice.

     "If it's material you desire, I might have a suggestion." The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, slithering down their spines.

     "Come out, come out, wherever you are," giggled Dae, his eyes flitting over the dark corners of the room.

The woman stepped out of the shadows, although they seemed to cling to her like fog.

     "Ah. Welcome. We wondered if we might see you again, Irene." Rimuto couldn't quite keep the tremor out of his voice.

     "Do not be afraid, little man. This is a suggestion that will benefit all of us."

     "I'm sure. You have been most helpful in our research. Rubel and Dae have recently- "

     "Silence," Irene didn't even need to raise her voice to make a few of the elders shrink back a bit in their seats. "I know what they've managed to do. You can feel the surges of yoki for miles. You're lucky you haven't drawn anything worse to your pathetic village. Even a magic-sensitive _human_ could be drawn here subconsciously, so I'm a bit shocked that you aren't up to your ears in the weaker levels of awakened monsters."

     "We do have a small wolf problem," Orsay muttered under his breath.

     "You said you had a suggestion?" said Rado, giving Orsay a pointed glare.

     "Indeed. You've been developing some sort of substance that can induce the awakening of a human's powers, but you haven't been able to create a being that has any conscious control after the transformation." Irene was met with silence. "Well?"

     "You're correct," Rubel said finally.

     "Then if I could offer you some beings of that nature, you would be interested in those, correct? I would even help you find a way to control them for your... purposes." And here she looked directly at Rubel, not missing the glint in his eyes.

     "Then what are we waiting for?" Dae looked as though his birthday had come early. "Where can we find them?"

     "Patience, patience. Some preparation is needed if you're going to help me capture the Beast and her little friends."

     "You think that would be possible?" asked Rimuto.

     "Are you questioning my power?"

     "Of course not," Rimuto replied uncomfortably. "If it means being free of that Beast and acquiring new test subjects, we are at your disposal."

* * *

Teresa breathed in and out, slowly, focusing on the chill and the rough bark against her back. She could feel the air moving around her, flowing like water. It was the same breeze that had drawn her here as she crawled, so many years ago, her hair more blood than blonde. It was the same breeze that seemed to whisper when the animals she hunted were near, and to roar when any of those awakened wolves decided to venture too close to the village. It was the breeze that took on a sickly tinge whenever the elders decided to try and bury another mangled corpse in her woods. There was a strange chill in the wind today, but she ignored it. She had more important things to worry about.

Her breathing slowed, and she could almost feel the forest growing beneath her feet. Where? The question echoed in her mind. Where were the elders conducting their foul deeds? The scent of decay drifted across her nostrils, and she shuddered. She knew these senses of hers were unnatural, but if it helped her get revenge then she would happily trust her instincts. She walked, eyes almost closed, but she was as surefooted as ever. The trail wound back and forth beneath her feet, until it was not a trail at all, and she was pushing her way through unexplored terrain. She grew closer to where the ground began to slope up towards the mountains. The scent was stronger now. She crossed over a small ridge, and it became so sickening she had to stop for a moment to force her last meal back down out of her throat. Blinking the water from her eyes, she turned back to the rocky face jutting out from the hillside. Here. Her fingers ran across it, testing, searching. She closed her eyes again, and felt her fingers catch. She pressed inwards, and her eyes snapped open as a block of stone began to slide back into the hill.

It was surprisingly dry inside the cave. There were several small rooms carved into the earth, filled with books and flasks and jugs of some sinister liquid. Manacles hung from the ceiling in places. Teresa didn't bother looking at the stains beneath too closely. She squinted into the darkness, cursing the fact that she didn't have a torch, and somehow things seemed to grow a bit lighter. She examined the locked cells at the back of the cave. What were they doing in here?

She turned to go back and look through some of the books, but two solid bodies tackled her out of nowhere. She heard the crack of her head hitting the stone. Everything blurred, and she felt rough hands dragging her across the stone. She kicked and screamed, but she almost felt like she was floating. Something strained inside her skull, and she could feel the blood dripping down her neck.

She had felt this before.

When had she felt this before?

The chains closed around her wrists, and she heard Gaston mocking her as he locked the cell door. What was happening to her?

Teresa felt as though a long forgotten name were hovering on the tip of her tongue.

Then in a flash, her hands were stretched out before her, ignoring the screams and roars and hissing that filled the air. She stood in the middle of a great wood, another figure silhouetted before her. Golden light flowed from her fingertips, surrounding the silver-haired woman as a great serpent struck at Teresa's glowing shield with its fangs. Teresa shuddered with the effort, the smell of blood and fire assaulting her nostrils. The serpent shrieked in frustration, and whipped its tail, knocking the mysterious woman aside. Everything moved very slowly then, as Teresa saw the tail flying towards her. It glittered enticingly in the light. She couldn't move, and then she was moving very quickly, flying through the air and landing in the nearby river. Her head ached, her breath was driven from her body, and she felt the current pulling her under. She could still hear someone screaming her name, echoing through the water as it filled her ears.

She gasped, tears running from her eyes where she lay slouched against the stone wall. Her mind had cleared from the sudden rush of memory. It was dark again, and utterly silent.

     "Irene?" she whispered into the void. _Who was Irene?_

* * *

A stitch bit into Clare's side. She couldn't remember how long she'd been running, but she ignored the pain and the burning in her lungs. Sweat dripped into her eyes, and she slowed briefly to swipe furiously at them with her sleeve. There was no time! She kept running. She didn't bother with the map, all she had to do was keep the sun behind her left shoulder and she would get there. Clare tripped over a root, feeling the unpleasant jolt as she landed heavily on the heels of her hands. She shoved herself back up, and kept running.

Her lungs burned. She ignored them. She had to keep running. Her mother was chained up somewhere in the dark, and Clare knew no one in the village would risk a damn thing to find her. She could feel her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest. It didn't matter. Her body didn't matter. Just Teresa. Gods knew what they were doing to her.

She had to keep running, she had to move faster.

There was no time.

_If only she were faster, if only she were **faster**._

Clare felt a silent growl rising up in her chest, and now the fiery ache had spread from her lungs to her entire body. The pain in her side faded away beneath the rush of adrenaline and her feet dug into the earth, throwing her forward like an arrow from a bow. The trees seemed to part before her, and Clare almost felt like she was flying.

* * *

     "The time is almost here. Where are the villagers?" The slightest flush had started to creep up Irene's icy cheeks.

     "They're waiting by the forest. Everyone able to swing a sword. They're more than happy to dispose of this Beast, now that we have a powerful witch on our side."

     "Excellent. I will go equip them with the appropriate supernatural protections." Irene unceremoniously vanished into thin air.

     "I don't see why she has to keep doing that," grumbled Dae. "It's creepy." Rubel snorted.

At that moment, Gaston and Lefou barreled into the room, panting.

     "Look who we found creeping around the outskirts of the village!"

Lefou tilted Clare's chin up, so the elders could see her face.

     "What on earth did you do to the poor woman?" asked Rimuto.

     "We didn't do a thing," Gaston grunted. "She was exhausted and beat up like this when we found her. Probably ran all the way from that damn castle."

Rado dropped to his knees in front of Clare.

     "Wake up." He gripped her chin and tapped her face briskly. "Do you know where you are? How did you escape?"

     "Didn't." Clare rasped out. "Where's my mother?"

     "Can you tell us anything about the Beast?"

     "She's not bad- " Clare coughed, struggling to catch her breath. " -when you get to know her."

     "Brainwashed." Rado growled, getting to his feet. "She'll be no help capturing the thing. Although we might be able to use her as bait."

     "No, she- what do you want with her? She let me go, she won't bother us anymore. Now what did you do with Teresa?"

     "Oh good heavens, would you shut her up? Of course she had to show up _now_." groaned Rimuto, rubbing his temples. Gaston obliged with a quick blow with the hilt of his sword, and Clare slumped in their arms. "Very well, bring her along. If she causes any trouble, kill her. This is the chance we've been waiting for and I don't want to take unnecessary risks."

* * *

Irene stared down the men and women in front of her as she wove protections from fire and poison over them.

     "I know your elders have told you to capture these monsters alive, but let me dispel any illusions you may have. They will not let themselves be captured. They will fight to the death. If you really want revenge for the friends and family the Beast has stolen from you, you will have to kill them. I suggest you fight accordingly." The villagers shifted nervously, but nodded their understanding. Irene heard a group approaching, and turned to see the elders and two others. Gaston carried an unconscious woman over one shoulder. "And who is this?"

     "The last sacrifice, believe it or not." Gaston's smile was full of teeth. "Has somehow been brainwashed into caring for these monsters, so now we might have a hostage."

     "Perhaps. These monsters wouldn't be capable of returning her feelings, but I suppose it can't hurt to bring her along." She paused. "Where's the quiet one?"

     "Rubel? We aren't quite certain of his loyalties," Rimuto sighed. "We told him to go prepare our laboratory for more captives, and to start tests on the one we already had."

     "Very well. Now, if everyone is ready?" Irene moved through the small crowd of warriors and headed into the forest. A sense of deja vu fell over her for a moment, and her normally chilly expression furrowed in anger. As much as she had enjoyed watching Ophelia stew inside her prison from afar, she was more than ready for the final course of her revenge. Maybe for any other offense, the curse would have been sufficient, but to have lost Teresa was more than she could ever forgive.

* * *

Teresa's head jerked up from where it rested on her chest.

     "Rubel? I should have known you lot would send someone to follow me."

The man just shrugged.

     "Anger makes you careless, it seems."

Teresa snorted bitterly.

     "Are you here to mock me or torture me?"

     "Neither."

Teresa blinked. Rubel looked different. His blank mask was slipping, and she could see anticipation simmering in his dark eyes. He strode forward, opening the door to her cell with a ring of keys, and dropped to his knees next to her. Ignoring the fact that he was now within range of a bite or a headbutt, he set about unshackling her from the wall.

     "You're freeing me?"

Rubel ignored her question.

     "There's a small band heading for the castle. They intend to capture the Beast and her companions. They have your daughter with them, and will likely use her as bait. They are also accompanied by a powerful witch named Irene. I think that she would prefer the Beast to end up dead. You must be cautious."

 _Irene?_ Teresa's heart skipped a beat again. Could it be the same woman from her memory?

     "Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?"

They both got to their feet, and Teresa started rubbing the feeling back into her hands. Rubel began digging through a pile of their previous prisoners' discarded possessions, finding some bits of leather armor and a short sword.

     "Answer me." Teresa's grip on his shoulder was just this side of painful.

     "I'm not from here," he finally answered.

     "You aren't from the village?"

     "No. I'm not from this island."

     "But- how? We've never had any contact from other lands before."

     "I was sent here." Rubel shrugged again. "I have my own duties to attend to. However, you rescuing your daughter doesn't interfere with my plans. In fact, I'm fairly curious about what will happen. A witch, a collection of partially awakened monsters, and you and Clare who are... unique, shall we say. An excellent opportunity for observation."

     "I'm not sure you aren't monsters yourselves, but I appreciate you letting me go."

Rubel actually smiled again, tossing her the sword. "They have a bit of a head start on you, better hurry."

Teresa nodded, pausing in the entrance to the cave.

     "Rubel. When I come back, you and I are going to have a chat."

     "I shall certainly look forward to it."

 

Once Teresa had vanished into the trees, Rubel set about packing his bag, humming softly to himself. He carried his things from the cave, and loaded them onto the horse he had tied up some distance away. Returning to the lab, he carefully stacked books, jars, papers, jugs, and anything else he could find, all in a pile in the smallest room. He saturated the whole mess with cooking oil, and set it alight. He watched it burn for a while, staring until the afterimage of the flames hung stubbornly in his eyes. That would do. He heard a few of the jugs cracking from the heat as he left, mounting his horse and turning his nose towards the mountains to the east. He would have to hurry, himself. It just wouldn't do for him to miss the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eternally thankful for my detailed notes, and also certain people (you know who you are lol) bugging me to update. Sometimes I need a kick in the ass. :') This was the first chapter I had to write way out of order. There was a _lot_ going on, and trying to make sure Irene never heard them say Teresa's name (because Plot) took a bit of rewriting. Also while I was writing that last little bit with Teresa and Rubel, I had "Poker Face" playing on loop in my brain. I didn't know I was going to enjoy writing that sneaky bastard so much, but here we are.
> 
> Comments/criticism/errors/etc. are welcome here or on [Tumblr.](http://captainindigo.tumblr.com)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed!


	10. Breaking and Awaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene, Ophelia, Clare, and Teresa all arrive for the final confrontation!

Ophelia paced, her shoes tapping back and forth across the kitchen.

     “Show me Clare,” she hissed at the mirror again. The fog within its surface was agitated, but refused to clear. “Damn! It’s Irene, I know it. She’s still blocking me.”

     “She was blocking you ten minutes ago too dear. Will you sit and eat something? You’re going to drive us mad with all your pacing.” Ophelia huffed a bit, but eventually allowed Mrs. Potts to guide her into a seat.

     “I just wish I knew if she was ok. Stupid humans. Always getting themselves into trouble.”

_      You never cared if the others got into trouble, _ Chip grinned. Ophelia just glared at him, her mouth full of soup.

     “I cannot believe you’re still so ready to trust her,” muttered Lumiere from where they sat on the counter. “She’s clearly just a skilled liar.” Ophelia’s spoon paused on the way to her mouth, and her shoulders drooped.

_      Well, either way we have a battle ahead of us. Are we ready? _

     “Ready as we’ll ever be,” answered Mrs. Potts from the stove. “Just like old times.”

Cogsworth snorted.

     “Don’t remind me. At least this time it isn’t my fault.”

     “Yes, your fault. Because  _ you _ are the one who hired a pair of witches to exterminate every monster within a ten mile radius of our old home,” Lu snarked.

     “I’m the one who started it. If I hadn’t slipped up and let that asshole steal my sealskin, I wouldn’t have been bound to him, Ophelia wouldn’t have had to kill him, and you all wouldn’t have been dragged into this mess.”

     “Cogsworth.” Everyone looked up at Ophelia’s voice. “I regret that you were all cursed with me, but that was Irene’s doing. And I certainly don’t regret biting off your captor’s damn head.” For a while, they ate in silence. Then Cogsworth looked up from his soup, his eyes growing unfocused.

     “They’re coming.”

_      Already? _ Chip asked, surprised.

     “Yeah. Irene’s doing something to clear their path, she’s leaving a giant scar through the trees,” Cogs answered. A low growl permeated the room, and they all looked over to see Mrs. Potts baring her teeth. Feathers began to poke out through her hair.

     “I don’t care for people who are rude to my forest.” She cracked her knuckles, giant claws curling and uncurling.

     “Eager?” Lumiere huffed, sparks starting to fly from their nose again.

     “Do we all know the plan?” Ophelia asked, still serious.

_      They won’t know what hit them. I’m almost looking forward to this, I haven’t had a proper meal since the last sacrifice made the mistake of insulting Mrs. Potts’ cooking. _

* * *

The first thing Clare noticed was the rub of horsehair against her cheek, and the painful dig of a saddle-horn into her side. Her wrists ached slightly where they hung, bound in front of her. She tried to keep her breathing even. All around her were the sounds of muffled hooves and branches rustling in the breeze. She recognized a few voices as belonging to people from her village behind her, and the voices of the elders from the front of the party. Her body jolted roughly as the horse was ridden over uneven ground, and she used the motion to hide her movement as she turned her head slightly towards the front. All Clare could see of the woman who led them was long, flowing silver hair, and a grey cloak. As she rode through the forest, the trees groaned and snapped, parting before her as if she were royalty in a crowded room. Based on what little Clare could see, they were already approaching the switchbacks that led up to the castle.  _ Damn. _ How long had she been unconscious? Their back-and-forth journey up the rocky slope seemed far too short as Clare’s thoughts whirled in her head. Did Ophelia know they were coming? Was Teresa still a prisoner? And what were the villagers planning to do with her? She waited with baited breath as they approached the gates in the castle wall, watching through barely-open eyes.

     “I have come for you, monster!” The silver-haired woman called from the front, her voice cracking with rage. Only then did Clare notice Ophelia approaching from the other side of the gate. The air seemed to shimmer around her, and scales were already creeping up her arms, betraying the emotion behind her steady voice.

     “We have been waiting for you, Irene. The last flower petal is about to fall. So in the end, it’s not enough to leave us trapped in these miserable forms?”

     “You  _ know _ the answer to that.”

     “Yes, I do. I wanted to spare all the innocent lives you seem to have dragged here with you, but have it your way.”

     “Don’t you dare blame me for this, you disgusting creature,” Irene bit out. Clare’s fingers twitched involuntarily where they hung in front of her. “You killed my  _ wife _ . There is no punishment too harsh, and nothing I wouldn’t do to make you squirm.”

     “I killed your wife because you were both hired to try and kill  _ me _ , simply for eating a single human. And if you want to talk about disgusting creatures, did they tell you what he- “

     “Unless it will bring back my beloved Teresa, spare me your useless words.” Irene raised her hands, and a bitter cold wind gathered around her, turning her breath into icy clouds. With a sharp motion of her arms, something too fast to see slashed across the gates, sending the broken pieces of iron flying in every direction. “Get them!” As Irene and the villagers charged through the shattered gates, the horse holding Clare hung back. She risked a quick glance to the side, and saw well-made shoes and a fine robe. One of the elders then. Whoever it was didn’t have a weapon, much to Clare’s disappointment, but at least one of the old men would be easier to overpower as long as her hands were free. Her mind spun faster, blood pounding in her ears. Beloved Teresa? Could Irene really have been married to Clare’s mother? Why had Ophelia tried to kill her? Careful not to move her arms too much, Clare started testing the rope around her wrists. It was hastily tied, and she allowed herself a grim smile. Soon, she would get her chance.

* * *

Lefou crept along in Gaston’s shadow. They wove along in between bushes and evergreens, the shouts (and screams) of fighting fading slightly behind them.

     “I can’t believe that witch has us taking care of the backup instead of helping with the  _ real _ enemies.”

     “She did say they were pretty strong, maybe you’ll still get your fight?”

     “Whatever. Just watch my back and don’t get in my way.” 

Lefou muttered his assent, and they kept moving. If he was lucky, he thought, maybe he could find a moment to slip away into the forest. He could find a new village, and never see or hear from Gaston or the elders ever again. He almost laughed aloud. It was a nice daydream. The castle doors loomed dark and heavy before them, and Lefou wondered momentarily if they would have to climb in a window. Before Gaston could even try his hand at the doors, they swung open with no sound but a gentle scrape. Chin up, Gaston marched inside, as if this wasn’t clearly a trap. Lefou shuddered and kept glancing behind them, expecting swinging axes or barrels of fire or at least some kind of ambush. The first floor was clearly only living quarters, but Gaston made a point to vent his nerves by kicking open each door anyway. They turned right and reached the end of the long hallway, and the spiral stairs that led upwards into the darkness above. The second floor was much of the same, until they reached another long hallway off to their left. At the end there was a door, framed with light, almost blinding after the long torchless corridors. They moved slower, each step sending Lefou’s heart leaping into his chest. It almost flew out of his body entirely when a silky voice called to them from behind the door.

     “Well, would you care to come in, or are you just going to hover out there forever?”

Gaston stopped short, scowling.

     “We promise not to kill you in the doorway, that seems unsportsmanlike.”

     “Open the door,” Gaston hissed at Lefou. “Don’t give me that look. They said they won’t kill us immediately. Open the damn door.” Caught between a rock and a hard place, Lefou finally reached for the handle and stepped, blinking, into the bright room. Lefou and Gaston froze.

Lumiere stood by the open balcony doors, hands on their hips. Their skin shone with red and gold scales, dark talons hung from their fingertips, and a thick, scaly tail lashed behind them. Their slitted crimson eyes burned into the two humans before them.

     “Aren’t you here to kill us? Did the witch send you? You seem a bit ill-prepared. Maybe she’s just trying to distract us with snacks.”

     “The cute one doesn’t even want to be here. Kill the big angry one first,” called Cogsworth from where he was peering out from behind the door frame. Lumiere snorted in amusement, and a small burst of flame shot out of their nose. Lefou jumped backwards with a squeak, bumping into Gaston, who had been trying to inch surreptitiously towards the door. With a growl of rage, he grabbed Lefou by the hair, throwing him towards Lumiere and making a leap for safety. The door slammed shut in his face all by itself, and the walls around them grumbled in a way that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Lefou landed heavily at Lumiere’s feet, but they ignored him in favor of stalking towards Gaston. Cogsworth narrowed his eyes, wheeling from the balcony back into the kitchen.

     “You know, I really don’t like guys like you,” Cogsworth began, staring Gaston down. “You think you’re so tough until you have to face someone who can actually stand up to you. Are you alright?” This last was directed at Lefou, who had rolled onto his back and was clutching his smashed nose. The only reply was a wet gurgle, but Cogsworth seemed satisfied. “So you’d throw this guy to his death, just to escape? I bet he even thinks you two are friends.” Cogsworth’s skin took on an inhuman tinge of grey, and his grin was full of shark-like teeth. “I really,  _ really _ don’t like guys like you.” The air around him seemed to grow cold and damp, and Gaston pressed himself as far back into the door as he could manage, his nails scratching at the wood in a panic. “Lu? If you would?”

     “Anything for you, my dear,” Lumiere growled affectionately.

Lefou was too busy trying to stem his bleeding nose and didn’t see what happened next, but it involved fire and a lot of screaming, so that was fine by him.

* * *

Mrs. Potts’ delighted growls and the villagers’ angry shouts echoed throughout the courtyard, and her great paws sent people sprawling across the ground. Chip clicked excitedly as he swung white, silky strands through the air, tripping and trapping. Sweat dripped from their brows with the effort of partially awakening, and the number of their small wounds began to grow. They didn’t need to speak to know that they would keep the smallfry off Ophelia’s back until the bitter end.

Ophelia’s teeth clacked together as Irene’s icy blast struck her sword and sent her feet digging into the earth. The witch was definitely stronger. She was suddenly grateful for the long hours she’d spent sparring with Clare. Her throat tightened at the thought, but Ophelia forced down the strange emotion just in time to block another bolt that had come flying straight for her head.

     “What’s wrong? You seem distracted,” taunted Irene. “Have you accepted your penance already?”

     “In your dreams, witch. Even if I accepted the punishment you think I deserve, I would still fight to protect my friends.” Ophelia blocked another chunk of ice, feeling pinpricks of cold where the burst of shards rained over her body.

     “You don’t have friends!” Irene bit out, panting a bit as she threw two blasts towards Ophelia in quick succession. “You don’t have friends, and even if you somehow managed to brainwash that last sacrifice into being loyal to you, the curse will come to an end without a single person ever truly caring for you!”

     “Clare?” Ophelia’s eyes widened, the distraction forcing her to drop to the ground, rolling out of the way of the second blast. _ Clare and Irene weren’t working together?  _ Irene must’ve heard something in Ophelia’s voice, because she stopped dead, giving the woman time to roll back to her feet. Ophelia heard a bitter, strangled noise, and realized that Irene was laughing.

     “So that’s her name? You- you’ve actually- By the goddess, this is better than I hoped. You’ve actually come to care for a human. Maybe now I can make you feel even the smallest fraction of what you did to me. Ermita! Bring her!” Ophelia wavered, not wanting to take her eyes off of the witch, even for a moment. Thankfully, there was no need. Ermita led his horse forward with a wicked grin, and Ophelia could see Clare slumped over the saddle. Ophelia’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Well?”

     “Kill her. See if I care,” Ophelia said, shrugging. She tried desperately to keep her voice even. “She’s just a human.” For the first time, possibly ever, those words felt false on her tongue.

     “I see. Then I suppose if you don’t care, I might as well…” Irene stalked over to the horse, gripping Clare by the hair and pulling her head up to expose her neck. Ophelia tensed, ready to leap for Irene, even knowing that she was too far to make it in time, and then everything seemed to freeze. Clare’s eyes shot open, and Ophelia met them with a jolt. She took in the fiery gaze, the slight twitch of Clare’s hands, the tiny quirk of her lips. Ophelia smiled, and dove for Irene. Ermita yelped, leaping back, and his horse snorted, trying to ease the sudden yank on its reigns. Irene readied her dagger to carry out her threat, but stumbled with a surprised grunt as one of Clare’s elbows slammed into her side. “Why you little- !” For a moment, Ophelia dared to think that everything would go well, but then Clare shrieked as Ermita grabbed her feet and yanked her back off the horse. Ophelia’s enraged hiss reminded Irene that she was still in the middle of a fight. Ophelia’s scales were spreading, arms starting to thicken with muscle, and bits of gold flickered across her irises. “For you to awaken this much, the curse must be causing you quite a bit of pain,” Irene taunted, dancing out of the way of Ophelia’s blade. “Do you really care about her that much?” Ophelia’s only response was to come at her harder, her blade moving back and forth so quickly it almost seemed to ripple through the air. “Then it will be that much sweeter when I kill her before your very eyes!” Ophelia’s rage was her downfall. Clare could’ve told her that. Her form gave way to inelegant slashes when she was frustrated, her weakness against lower blows became more apparent. Irene’s piercing silver eyes missed nothing. Irene slashed at Ophelia’s legs with her long dagger, and Ophelia blocked awkwardly. Seizing her opening, Irene slammed a glowing blue hand into Ophelia’s chest, knocking her to the ground where the ice began to spread out over her torso. One arm was already pinned, and Irene ground Ophelia’s other wrist under her heel. “Any last words, monster?” Ophelia bared her fangs, refusing to look away in the face of death.

 

Ermita was a little younger than the other elders, but he was still unused to fighting. Clare had no weapon, but at last was able to escape his hold, rolling them over and slamming her head back into his collarbone with a wet crack. She looked back towards Irene. Ophelia was down. Ophelia was on the ground,  _ frozen _ to the ground, grimacing in pain. Irene was hovering with her long, wicked dagger. Clare was too far away, but lept forward anyway. The blood pounding in her ears sounded like thundering hooves. Irene’s hand came down. She was too far away. She was too slow, and Ophelia was going to  _ die _ . Too slow, too slow, if only she were- 

 

Ophelia forced her eyes to stay open as the dagger rushed towards her, but death vanished from her sight in a vicious scream and a burst of fire. She felt something break inside her chest, and she thought she heard the sound of breaking glass from a long way off. She writhed on the ground, still trapped under the ice. She could feel her insides sloshing around like liquid, bones creaking, tendons snapping taut, her body warping and stretching back into its true form. She shrieked in pain, but it felt like coming home.

 

Clare’s hooves dug into the ground as she braced herself for another attack. Her legs were long, thin, and made the wind itself seem sluggish. Flames burned in her eyes, danced around her wrists, and her muscles rippled under the light silky hair that covered her body. Irene’s dagger protruded from low between her ribs, unnoticed. Clare stood between Irene and Ophelia, blocking blast after blast with her hardened fists. She growled and shuddered, unused to the strain of the magic pouring through her body, but Ophelia still hadn’t gotten back up. Irene panted as well, bruises and a few burns now blooming across her body, but she could tell Clare’s initial burst of desperate power could only last so long. Smirking, she stepped closer and closer, each blast hitting harder than the one before, wearing Clare down until she dropped to her knees in front of Ophelia’s body.

     “You may have broken the curse, human, but this monster doesn’t deserve life. And apparently, neither do you. Now get out of my way!” Irene reached out a hand, but for the second time that day she was sent sprawling. With a roar of frustration, Irene lifted both hands and released a spell that slammed into the intruder at point blank range.

With a flutter of golden hair, Teresa flew almost gracefully through the air before hitting a tree and bouncing off with a sickening crack.

Irene lowered her hands, pale and shaking.

     “Teresa?”

     “Mother!”

Gasping as her body shrunk back to its human form, Clare stumbled weakly towards where Teresa lay. She and Irene dropped to their knees on either side, and Clare gently shook her mother’s shoulder.

     “Clare?” Teresa’s voice was soft, but she brought a hand up to her daughter’s cheek. “Thank the gods, you’re alright. I was so worried!” Blood started trickling down the side of Teresa’s mouth, and Clare dabbed it away with tears in her eyes.

     “Don’t worry about me, Ophelia’s kind, they’ve all been good to me, now let me help you to the castle so we can-” Clare broke off with a sob as Teresa coughed, more blood spattering her tunic.

     “I’m sorry to leave you like this, Clare.” Teresa looked up at her with a small smile, which only made Clare cry harder. “You were in danger, I had to.” As if just remembering Irene was there, Clare’s head snapped up, tears streaming down her face.

     “I swear Irene, you’ll  _ pay _ for this!” Clare spat, but stopped again at Teresa’s light touch on her arm.

     “Irene. I remember you.”

     “You do?” Irene choked.

     “Yes. I had forgotten, but now- “ Another cough wracked her body as she struggled to draw breath through the blood in her lungs. “I don’t remember everything, but I remember you. Let her go, Clare. There is more to this story than you know.”

     “Let her g- mother, you’re dying! She just killed you! You can’t ask me to- ”

Teresa looked up with tears in her own eyes.

     “Clare, my beloved daughter. You could never hurt her more than she has just hurt herself.” Teresa’s voice was weak, almost a whisper. “You have to let me go. My greatest comfort is knowing that you're safe.” Clare had to lean down to hear as Teresa’s voice faded, word by word. “I love you, Clare, and my heart will always be with you.”

With a gut wrenching wail, Clare buried her face in Teresa’s neck, digging her fingers into Teresa’s shoulders as if to anchor her to the world of the living. Irene sat there for a moment, twitching inside her skin, and she reached down to brush a lock of hair off Teresa’s face. Then wordlessly she rose, her face white and sick, and wandered towards the broken gates like a dead woman walking.

* * *

     “Too bad we never got to have our talk, Teresa.” If it weren’t completely impossible, Rubel thought the feeling in his stomach might be regret. He gave a small huff of silent laughter. “Ah well, can’t win them all.” The clouds were starting to disperse, and his horse had stopped dancing nervously at the end of its tether. He kept staring down at the castle until the last of the villagers had gone, either back towards the village, or into the ground. The twig he spun idly between his fingers finally stilled. Whistling cheerfully, he untied his horse, checked that all his bags were secure, and mounted up. So. She had awakened after all. Did all people have the ability to unlock this hidden power? He highly doubted it. In all of their experiments, those that they had forcibly awakened had without exception gone mad. Clare had not only awakened by her own will, she had retained control of her mind. Was she just unique? Could this ability be cultivated? Could a person’s awakened power become stronger with practice? All of these were questions that would have to be answered, but his observations today boded well for the success of his mission. Rubel grinned, directing his horse back towards the trail leading deep into the eastern mountains. He had a report to deliver, and it wouldn’t do to keep his employers waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I promised I wouldn't abandon this. ;)
> 
> I decided not to do a full-on flashback chapter, and instead tried to incorporate some of the info into the dialogue. It was kind of tricky, so if there's stuff that's unclear let me know and I will happily elaborate. So, next chapter will be the epilogue and the ridiculous scaly smut! Don't worry, it'll be super obvious where that part comes in, so you can skip if it's not your thing.


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